The Blessed Unrest
by AColorfulMind
Summary: After the death of her father, The Detective's Daughter, Etheldrea Holmes has set out on a mission to avenge him and take down what she can of Moriarty's web. But, after a near death experience, she starts to realize maybe she's not the teenage copy of Sherlock she thought she was. With her best friend Abigail and guardian John, she's going to discover who she really is. 5th fic
1. Hercules Part 1

**AN: Welcome back to another tale in the Etheldrea Holmes series! The Blessed Unrest is going to be a songfic based on the album of the same name by Sara Bareilles, and I cannot tell you how excited I have been to do this! I highly suggest you open up another tab and search the songs as each chapter is posted. I'm listening to each song on repeat as I write the chapters, and it's just amazing!**

**As usual, I don't own Sherlock or it's characters aside from my own. Etheldrea Holmes' face model is model Emily Rudd however that will be changing by the end of the story as Etheldrea grows older. Also on the cover you see a man by the name of Anton Yelchin, who plays Chevok from Startrek. If anyone can correctly guess who he will be playing, you win! Here's a hint, I mentioned his character in a chapter two stories ago. So, without further ado, The Blessed Unrest.**

**I miss the days my mind would just rest quiet**

**My imagination hadn't turned on me yet**

**I used to let my words wax poetic**

**But it melted a puddle at my feet now**

**It is a calcifying crime, it's tragic**

**I've turned to petrified past life baggage**

**I want to disappear and just start over**

**So here we are**

**And I'll breathe again...**

* * *

If there was one thing Etheldrea Holmes knew, it was that one minute, even one second can change everything. The differences can change the future and an either give or take life. However, she did not care what that meant for her.

Four months ago her father, the world's only consulting detective Sherlock Holmes, jumped off St Bart's hospital. According to the papers, he couldn't cope with the "truth" of him being a fraud. She knew that wasn't case, wouldn't believe it. He had been as real as she was, and she owed it to him to clear his name.

The first month had been the hardest, but she wasn't alone. John Watson was her guardian now. He took her in when her dad died, saying that even if Sherlock hadn't made him promise, he would have done it anyway. There was no way in the entire world that he and she would be separated, they needed each other the most.

Before the school year started, John and Etheldrea moved out of 221 B Baker Street for a fresh start. It had been surprisingly easy convincing Etheldrea, but she was just like him, plagued by memories. Mrs. Hudson had been sad to see them go, but she understood and Etheldrea promised to visit now and then.

Abigail Grey, Etheldrea's best friend, was there to help too. Every week during the summer, the girls got together and talked, and sometimes they went back to Baker Street for tea with Mrs. Hudson. The landlady of 221 Baker Street was always eager to see Etheldrea. Although, the visits were shortened to only the weekends when school started up again.

Eventually, things got better for her. The sadness didn't fade, but it didn't consume her anymore, and the same was going for John. They both felt better after the move, and were starting to get on with their lives although it was much less exciting. John got a job at a hospital, and he finished in the afternoon so he was always there to pick Etheldrea up from school.

School wasn't too bad. Everyone was nearly an adult now, and so while there may have been whispers and stares, no one came up to Etheldrea or bullied her the way they would have years ago. She didn't have friends there, and Abigail didn't go to her school anymore. But she was left alone, and she much preferred it that way.

Life was better for them, and was seemingly going at a domestic pace. It bore Etheldrea to no end, and she needed something to occupy herself or she felt she would explode. When she wasn't with her friend, school, or Mrs. Hudson, she was digging around in places she shouldn't. Over the past three months she had been attempting to follow leads to a criminal organization that stretched all around the world. The network had been led by Moriarty, one of the most evil men she had ever met. He had been the one behind the faulty news headlines, framing her father for kidnaping two children, and when her dad died, he just disappeared.

She would spend hours investigating houses, people, and pouring over every bit of information she could get. John was close to finding out a few times but she was sneaky, and continued her information hunt. She hadn't been getting far but by November, she found one of Moriarty's employees. It was a small victory, and she had hoped to already know about three more employees, but she put it down to limited resources and time. If John or, gods forbid he never know, Uncle Mycroft, she would never do her work.

Alistair Walker was a freelance hit man who worked for Moriarty. After some convincing and a lot of money, she had bribed a few people who were once part of the Homeless Network. After her dad died, the Network disbanded but a little bit of hunting and she found a few of them. They tracked down the information she needed, which kept Mycroft from wondering where she was or what she was doing, and then she found her man.

She kept watch on him, tracking nearly every move he made. After a few weeks, she was able to predict his next move and it conveniently landed on her birthday. She made the plans, told John she was going for a trip, and then started putting together a file.

It would be a path of self-destruction.

_I Believe in Sherlock Holmes. I Fight John Watson's War. I Stand with The Detective's Daughter. Moriarty was Real._

These messages and similar ones decorated alleyways, posts, windows, and many other places much like Missing Persons signs. By St Bart's hospital, a red telephone booth was covered with messages of support and hope. Every week Etheldrea collected and put them a keepsake box. If anyone ever noticed the young woman with silvery blue eyes and shoulder length dark hair, they never said a word. She kept them under her bed and would look at them when she needed reassurance. It was nice to know that there were more than just a handful of people who knew the truth. And that's why she had to do this.

So in the early morning of her eighteenth birthday, a day where her Uncle Mycroft agreed to suspend all his security measures on her, she packed a backpack and kept the file hidden in her messenger bag. She donned a knee length black trench coat and a purple scarf, looking like an echo of the father she would avenge. After saying goodbye to John, she took a cab to Scotland Yard.

Inside she met an officer who stopped her as she tried to go to Lestrade's office.

"Not without an appointment Miss Holmes." He told her.

"Then may I request a job application?"

"Give me a minute. Stay here."

She waited until he disappeared around a corner, rolled her eyes, and then continued to Lestrade's office. This was her first time back since she learned what had happened. Everyone had stared at her as she walked out, and the same was happening again only this time they were trying to hide it.

The door to Lestrade's office was open and she walked in. He glanced up and a smile formed on his face when he saw her. She took a seat and pulled out the file and held it in her hands.

"Etheldrea!" Lestrade exclaimed, "I haven't seen you in a long time. How are you? John?"

"Fine. We're both fine. I'm afraid I didn't come for a social visit though."

"Oh? What's up? Wait a minute, your eighteen today! You've come for a job, haven't you?"

"Actually, that was the last thought in my mind." She handed him the file, "This is Alistair Walker. He's a hit man, and he was once employed by Moriarty. I want your help in going after him."

"Ethel, I told you-"

"I know but I didn't listen. Stubborn, remember? Please Lestrade, this is the only way-"

"No. No, I'm sorry, but this isn't right. You can't be hung up on this. You need to move on."

"I can't! He was fighting this, fighting Moriarty, and now _he's_ gone who knows where, but his network can slowing be uncovered. I can unravel it, I know I can. You need to trust me!"

"You're too young, a little girl like you shouldn't looking at this kind of stuff. "

"Then I'm too young to join the Yard, I shouldn't work here. That was ten years ago, Inspector. I'm not eight anymore, I'm not a kid. You and I both know I've never really been a kid."

"No, we don't. You've always seen yourself as grown up, haven't you?"

She stared silently, and he sighed.

"I do remember you being a little girl. I remember when you were nine, almost ten, when you were almost-"

Etheldrea hung her head and said quietly, "We never mention that."

"I know. But you were so scared and confused during that who ordeal. And when I looked over you, the only thing that kept you distracted was coloring. And you would draw all kinds of pictures of things that probably didn't help but they were still kids drawing."

Etheldrea recalled, "I gave them to you to give to him."

"And I did. It was the first time I'd seen him smile in about a week. And I told you that, and you would relax and make airplanes and try origami."

"I failed miserably."

"Yeah," he laughed, "yeah you did. Do you see what I mean? You're only eighteen, you've got the world ahead of you, and it doesn't start with searching for bad guys. It starts with you moving on and living. We owe it to him, don't you think?"

She sighed and nodded, "You're right. God, I was so stupid. Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Of course."

She stood up and held out her hand, "Thank for the time Lestrade, I'm sorry if I interrupted anything."

"It's fine, anytime Drea. I miss seeing you."

She smiled, "I do too. Have a nice day."

She turned to leave but Lestrade told her to stop.

"Hand me the folder."

She looked at him confused, "I thought you-"

"I'm not, and neither are you. So you don't need it."

She hesitated just a bit, but gave it to him. He put it off to the side and then stood up. He walked over, gave her a hug, and then stepped back and looked at her. He smiled to himself and then shook his head.

"Stop growing."

She smirked, "I can't promise anything."

"You never could."

"Bye Lestrade. I have a train to catch, but I'll talk to you later."

"Until then. Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

She turned and walked out of the office, again ignoring as people glanced up at her. She was almost by the doors when she passed by Sally Donovan and Anderson. The later looked at her wide eyed and then looked away and took a long sip of his coffee. Donovan on the other hand watched her with a cautious look in her eye.

Etheldrea stopped and turned back to her. She stood a little straighter and never broke eye contact.

"You were right Sally." She told her.

"About what?"

"My dad."

"Oh?"

"You said 'One day we'll be standing around a body, and Sherlock Holmes will be the one to put it there.' Guess where I was after he died?"

Sally looked uncomfortable and then walked away, taking Anderson with her. Etheldrea nodded content with what her words had done, and then walked out. Now, she a hit man to track down.

* * *

Lestrade glanced down at the file, then shook his head, and looked back up at his computer. He went back to typing, but he continued to glance at the file. For the next couple of minutes he resisted the urge but he had to give in. He opened up the folder and pulled out the first sheet.

It showed a picture and general record of the guy. The next page was his criminal record, and the next few pages were notes Etheldrea had took in him. He browsed through, quite proud of the effort she had put it, and then started to put it away. However, he stopped and reread the last paragraph.

**Has been freelance for three months. No contracts what so ever. Hiding average of twenty miles each day. Last known location Glasgow. Heading for Edinburgh. Should arrive by eleventh. First Class Ticket preordered. John/Mycroft clueless. Contact Lestrade for possible help?**

_Edinburgh? Ticket? What tic- _'I have a train to catch'_._

"Son of a bitch." He muttered.

He stood up, grabbed the file and a few other things he would need, and then hurried out the door. He passed by Donovan on his way out and she asked where he was going. He lied about a bug and continued out, hurrying outside. It had only been a few minutes; she couldn't have gotten that far.

He looked around, searching every head for dark hair or a purple scarf, but it seemed like she was- there! Just about to get into a cab! He ran towards her, calling out her name but she either ignored or didn't hear him. Quickly he went to grab a cab that a middle aged man was about to get it.

"Police, sorry, emergency." He said quickly, and then pointed out Etheldrea's cab to the driver, "Follow them."

The driver complied, but eventually lost them. Lestrade knew where she was heading though, and hopefully would make it in time. At the train station, he paid the driver and hurried inside, looking for Etheldrea. With hundreds of people around, it was impossible to tell where she was or if she had gotten on the train or not.

He had tried calling her on the way but she didn't answer. He didn't want to contact John, not yet anyway. He wasn't entirely sure if she was going after this man, but if she was he sure as hell wasn't letting her go alone. So, he ended up paying for a first class ticket to Edinburgh.

Honestly, he didn't expect it to be so easy. As soon as he stepped into the car, he saw her. She was faced away from him but he could see the top of her head, and the telltale messenger bag she carried everywhere. Quickly, he took a non-reserved seat four away and on the opposite side from her. He kept his head low, and would steal quick glances at her, making sure she wouldn't disappear.

Once the train started moving, and he was sure she wasn't going anywhere, he relaxed a bit. He took the file he had taken from her and went to study it more thoroughly. Maybe there was something in there to help him keep track of her. A hotel room, café, anything. There was nothing, and maybe that was a sign that she wasn't going after him.

For the next ten minutes, he read the file and checked on Etheldrea. It wasn't until the eighth check he found she had disappeared. She and her things were gone, and it was like she hadn't even been there! He swore to himself and looked everywhere behind him.

There was a clink on the table, and he faced forward to see Etheldrea smirking down at him. She took a seat across from him and put down her things. She had bought him a beer and herself a coffee.

"Nice to see you Inspector, I had a feeling you'd . . . change your mind."

He closed his eyes and groaned, "You tricked me."

She was still smirking, "Not really. I just laid the track pieces. You didn't have to board."

"So you really are going after him? After all that I told, all that's happened?"

She frowned, "I have to. I'm his daughter, it's my duty-"

"To get yourself killed? Because that's what will happen, and Etheldrea we can't lose you. Imagine what they would do to your family, your friends, to John. Do you really want us going to another funeral?"

"I'm smart enough to not get killed."

"And dumb enough to not have a plan." He held up the file, "There's no plan in here. What were you planning to do? Tie him up and bring him to the police? This man is six feet, five inches and two hundred pounds. Now I know you're a strong girl but-"

"Are you going to help me, or not?"

Lestrade sighed and rubbed his face, "I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"You did, and you chose to help me."

"I'm calling John, though. He deserves o know."

She nodded, "I agree."

He fumbled in his pockets for his phone, but couldn't find it. He tried searching around his seat, but it wasn't there. He glanced at Etheldrea and noticed the poker face she had. Silent, watching his every move. He glared at her.

"You said it yourself, not give it."

"I agree, I do, but not yet. Not until we arrive."

"Why?"

"Well he's definitely not going to let me go on this adventure. He'll grab the next train that he can, and if you tell him now, we'll only have about half to a full hour to search. I need longer than that."

He sighed again, "Fine. We'll do this your way. You're just like your dad."

"Genetics." She said with a smile, "Now, you're right. We need a plan."

She reached into her messenger bag and pulled out a map and some pens. She also pulled out some more papers which he saw were actively logs of Walker. She started talking about possible locations, and ways they could corner him off. For the next four hours, they planned and plotted, and Lestrade was sure he'd be able to keep her out trouble until John got there.

* * *

As soon as they stepped off the train, he asked for his phone, but Etheldrea wasn't paying attention to him. She was on her own phone, reading off a text.

"He's been spotted, not far from here." She said, "Let's move."

She took off, not quite running, but hurrying all the same. Lestrade chased after her until they were stopped outside and alleyway a few blocks from the station.

"Well, do you see him?" he asked.

She shook her head and walked further into the alley, "No. He may have left."

He walked next to her and looked around. It was pretty empty, and with no dead end, he would have easily gotten away before they got there. He sighed and looked to her.

"Alright, well, we just need to keep looking. But first, give me my phone."

Etheldrea nodded and handed him the phone. He turned away from her and started searching through the contacts for John. Just as he found, he heard Etheldrea speak.

"I'm really sorry about this Inspector. Truly."

He started to turn to her, confused, but then something heavy and hard thumped him in the back of the head. He was out before he hit the ground.


	2. Hercules Part 2

**I've lost a grip on where I started from**

**I wish I'd thought ahead and left a few crumbs**

**I'm on the hunt for who I've not yet become**

**But I'd settle for little equilibrium**

**There is a war inside my heart gone silent**

**Both sides dissatisfied and somewhat violent**

**The issue I have now begun to see**

**I am the only lonely casualty**

**This is not the end though**

* * *

It was eleven, she had about four hours minimum to do this.

She hated doing this, absolutely utterly hated doing this. But, if she was to get anywhere, she needed Lestrade out of it. She should have known it would be too good to be true. He was the law, and she was willing to break it, and she couldn't have him getting involved. She hadn't been surprised when she saw him on the train, trying so hard not to be seen by her, and she hadn't been surprised when he wanted to call John.

But, she had watched him carefully during the four hour journey, and somehow she just knew he wasn't going to let this go. He wasn't going to help her, and he was going to make sure she stayed away from trouble. She couldn't let that happen. And part of her knew it was going to happen, so she was prepared.

John had two canes, which fortunately he never used anymore, and so sneaking out the collapsible one from the closet had been pretty easy. Then, she had to lead him away from a crowded area, and to her good fortune, one of her contacts texted at the right moment. So she led him away from the crowded station and down the streets until she found an empty alley. She was even luckier when he turned his back to call John, and she took out the cane.

"I'm really sorry about this Inspector." She told him, "Truly."

Then just as he turned back to her, she swung and hit hard. He was down on the ground, not moving, and she made sure he was breathing before taking off. Then she started her search. Her contact had had sent her Walker's last known location, and when she arrived, he was still there. On a bench on one side of the road, he was smoking a cigarette and looking at his phone. Etheldrea feigned looking at her phone while she rested against the wall.

Her phone _had_ gone off a few times, both from Lestrade and then John and she was sure there was an angry voice mail from them both. But, it didn't seem like they had contacted Mycroft, so she didn't answer. Lestrade had been wrong, she did have a plan, one that she had hoped he'd be part of. She'd corner Walker, take him down, and then contact police. She, Sherlock, and John had done it all the time. Simple.

For the next three hours she followed after Walker, staying sometimes a block behind him, but she blended in well and hadn't been caught yet. By two she followed him to Portobello Beach and he sat outside a little café. Quickly she sat down at a table and picked up a menu. She watched him over the top of it, and waited for him to leave. A waitress came by and Etheldrea ordered a coffee, and a small sandwich that she barely touched.

She sat there for an hour, waiting and waiting. She needed him in a quiet area where no one could get in the way. Eventually, he paid for his meal, and then started walking away. Etheldrea quickly followed suit, staying twenty paces away and keeping her hands in her pockets and head down.

She followed him for three blocks, and then she began to notice there were less people around. Another four blocks later, there was even less. Then finally there was no one as he started walking towards the beach. It was cold, and the air had a strong sense of rain, so no one would be at the beach of course. But, Etheldrea had a nagging feeling. Almost like he was leading.

He made a right on to a pier, and Etheldrea kept walking. A minute later, she turned her head back one and saw that Walker was now doing the same as her. Following behind at twenty paces, hands in his pockets and head down. She crossed over to the other side of the street, and then so did he.

He _had been_ leading her, and she had been stupid enough to fall for it. Every intersection she passed was devoid of people, and she tried turning down streets to find a busier road, but it seemed her luck was gone. It wasn't until she could hear Walkers footsteps that she started running.

She made a right, and then another at the next street, and then left at the next. Walker ran after, almost matching her pace. She kept running towards the main roads, hoping to find someone to help her. Before she was halfway down the path, a yank on her messenger bag threw her back and towards the ground. She was stopped by a rough hand shoving her up against a house wall by her neck.

Hot and nasty, Walker breathed, "What do you think you're doing, following me?"

Etheldrea glared, "That's my business."

The pressure on her throat increased, ""Yeah, and I seem to be part of it. So I'll ask again-"

He pulled out a pocket knife and held it against her cheek, "What. Are. You. Doing?"

Etheldrea felt the blade biting into her skin. Then there was a small, hot, line going down. She was bleeding no doubt, and would be bleeding more if she didn't get out of there fast. If she timed this right, a kick to the knee cap to stun him, another kick high to distract, and a punch to the chin at the same time. She'd get another cut on the cheek, but it was a small price to pay. She did just that, and felt the blade swipe across instead of down but she paid it no mind. She took off again and raced as far away as she could.

It didn't matter. Walker was after her, and this time he reached her jacket. Before he asked his question again, he dug the blade down her back, splitting the jacket and shirt, and leaving a nasty cut. It wasn't enough to incapacitate her though, but it hurt like hell.

"You worked for Moriarty!" she yelled.

"I knew I recognized you. The fake detective's daughter. What? Daddy is gone now so you have to chase the bad guys?"

He cut across her left shoulder, "You should've stuck to your dolls, Little Girl."

She rounded on him and punched, "I never played with dolls."

Her clothes felt wet and sticky, and running was becoming so tiresome. No wonder Walker was catching up to her so fast. She needed help NOW. A block away, she turned between some houses and pulled out her phone, still running. She typed in the number and it picked up before the first ring.

"_Etheldrea, where the hell are you?"_

"Don't yell at me yet, Inspector. I may have misjudged my situation completely. I'm near the intersection John Street and Elcho Terrance, heading North West. Being chased."

She looked back and saw Walker coming up, and she tried running faster.

"Hurry!"

Etheldrea hung up and focused on running ahead. There was a three way intersection coming up, and her best bet was running across and jumping a fence. Why the hell was there no one around? As she crossed the road, Walker was behind her and grabbed anything he could. One hand grabbed her scarf, and she stopped short as he pulled and choked her.

She struggled to get out of it, and couldn't breathe. Then, there was sharp pain in her arm as the knife he had cut through, reaching from her wrist to her elbow. Finally, her scarf loosened and came off. She ran, leaving it in his hands.

The fence was three feet taller than her, and she barely had the strength to climb it. When she was finally over, falling to the ground, Walker was there too. He was on her, pinning her hands and feet. He held the pocket knife above her and grinned down.

"Say hi to your dad for me."

She closed her eyes and turned her head, and then felt the knife enter her abdomen. At the same time, she felt Walker get off. The pain was intense, and she couldn't see straight. Black dots filled her vision. When she turned to look for Walker, she saw someone on top of him. Someone with dark hair, and a long coat.

She blinked her eyes, trying to focus but unable to. She couldn't move, couldn't speak, and before she could really register what she was seeing, she blinked and they were gone. Now, someone was patting her cheek, and saying her name.

"Etheldrea, please, _please_, wake up. Etheldrea!"

Looking up, she saw Lestrade. He looked concerned but relieved when he saw her eyes open. There was a pressure on her stomach and when she looked towards the appendage, she saw John pressing his hand there.

"The ambulance is on its way." Lestrade said, "Just hang on, keep your eyes open."

"She's awake?" John asked.

"Yeah. Drea, can you hear me?"

She mumbled, "You were-"

She coughed.

"I was right, I know, I know." He said, "I told you not to go-"

"-an idiot. Had him. Got away."

She didn't hear what he said next, already unconscious.

* * *

When Lestrade opened his eyes, Etheldrea was gone. Slowly, he sat up and rubbed his head. Etheldrea was much stronger than she looked. Glancing down, he found his phone, and immediately called John.

"John?"

"_Yeah Greg?"_

"Do you know what Etheldrea's doing?"

"_It's her birthday; she always does something like this on her birthday."_

"I know, but do you know what's she's doing, where she's going?"

"_Yeah, it's just a day trip. She'll be back by-"_

"It's not just that. She's chasing a criminal."

"_She's what?"_

"She's been planning this for months. She found a hit man, someone who worked for Moriarty. She's going after him."

"_Where is she now?"_

"I don't know. She hit me with something before taking off. I just woke up."

"_Alright, I'm coming. I'll call you when I get there."_

They hung up, and Lestrade tried Etheldrea next. It rung and rung, and finally gave her voice mail. He tried her three more times before knowing she wouldn't answer, and then he tried Mycroft. But, neither Holmes was answering. He kicked the wall in frustration, and then decided to start walking around. Now and then he'd stop people and ask if they had seen her, showing a picture he had on his phone. But he was getting nowhere.

He tried her phone every half hour, but she refused to pick up. The same with Mycroft. Once, he got a secretary saying Mycroft had some important business meeting going on and couldn't be disturbed, no matter who was in potential danger. His own orders apparently.

But finally, after searching for hours, and then meeting up with John at the station, she called.

"Etheldrea, where the hell are you?"

"_Don't yell at me yet, Inspector. I may have misjudged my situation completely. I'm near the intersection John Street and Elcho Terrance, heading North West. Being chased. . . . Hurry!"_

He grabbed John and they got in a cab. As they got to the intersection, he received a text from Etheldrea.

**704 Bellfield Street. Right side.**

With the new information, they headed for the house, and there paid the driver and went off in search of her. As soon as they rounded the corner of the house, they saw her. She was lying on the ground, not moving, and Lestrade could see her jacket torn to shreds. Her scarf was gone, and there was a couple on cuts on her cheek. Whoever did this was gone. John kneeled beside her and checked her over.

"Greg, call an ambulance. _Now._"

* * *

All John and Lestrade could do was wait. An hour passed with no word. And then another. John hadn't stopped pacing since they were put here. Lestrade had tried Mycroft again, and this time he got an answer. He was on his way, and would be there within a couple hours. Then he sat down in a chair and waited some more.

"She's been so distant." John said as he paced, "I thought she was just grieving. I didn't know that she- she-"

"No one did. Not even her Uncle, and he's pretty good at keeping track of what she's doing."

"How could he not have known? How could _I_ not have known? She bloody lives under the same roof!"

"It's not your fault, and it's not Mycroft's fault. Honestly, we should blame Etheldrea-"

"And we will, as soon as she's better."

"Yeah. . . . What are you gonna do?"

"She's eighteen, I can't ground her. I can't order her to do anything anymore. She might try to do this again."

"She will. Maybe she should get some therapy."

John stopped pacing for a moment and shook his head, "That's not going to help. You've known her for years, is there anything that would convince her to stop this?"

He sighed, "The Holmes' are notorious for self-destruction. You know Sherlock's past, I'm sure Mycroft went through something at some point. And Etheldrea . . . here we are now."

"There's got to be something, anything."

Lestrade leaned back in his chair, "Did you know Sherlock almost lost custody of Etheldrea?"

John stopped pacing and turned to look at him, "What?"

"Less than a year after we first met. He brought her to a crime scene, really bad, really gruesome. Someone called child services. It was almost three weeks before Mycroft managed to square up some deal or contract. But in that time, she was convinced that not helping with cases would make her see her dad."

"How can that help now?"

"This is going to sound really bad, but . . . Sherlock isn't coming back. Nothing she does will help him, not unless it's to clear his name. I know she feels this is the only way to connect with her dad, but . . ."

"She needs to come to her senses."

Lestrade nodded in agreement, and then looked left when he saw a doctor walking towards. The look on her face wasn't grim, and she had just a hint of a smile.

"Etheldrea Holmes?" she asked.

Lestrade stood up and walked to her, standing just a little bit behind John.

"Etheldrea is doing just fine. The surgery went well, and she should be recovered by the beginning of next month. Luckily, the knife only went about an inch in, and was treated quickly. Now, the cuts along her back, face, and arms will take a couple weeks but are a little more delicate. She can't do much physical exercise, especially lifting."

"Is she awake?" John asked.

"No, not yet. But, within the hour she will. If she cooperates, she should be able to leave in a couple days. Would you like to see her?"

"Please."

She led them down a couple of hallways and then stopped outside the door. She gave them a smile and then left. Lestrade took in the sleeping girl's appearance. In all honesty, she had seen worse, and just as the nurse said, she would probably be up and about as soon as she could.

Just as they were about to take seats, there was a knock at the door. Mycroft Holmes walked in and surveyed his niece. He looked worn and unbelievably tired. Seeing the two men watching him, he sighed.

"Shall we go see what this miserable place has for coffee? My treat."

"Sorry?" John asked.

"There's not much we can do until she wakes up, which won't be for a little while yet. I'm sure you two have had quite the day. Shall we go?"

Lestrade and John took a glance at Etheldrea before following Mycroft. As they walked, they didn't notice Mycroft sending a text.


	3. Hercules Part 3

**Just want to tell you guys, I have no medical knowledge. The best I get is from WebMD, and half the time that website tells me I'm dying of cancer or the flu. Carry on.**

**This is my darkest hour**

**A long road has lead me out here**

**But I only need turn around to face the light**

**And decide flight or fight**

**Cause I have sent for a warrior**

**From on my knees, make me a Hercules**

**I was meant to be**

**Cause I have sent for a warrior**

**From on my knees, make me a Hercules**

**I was meant to be a warrior please**

**Make me a Hercules**

* * *

Outside, a man rested against the hospital wall. He kept his head down, staying as far from the street lights as he could. People passing by never glanced at him. Now and then he'd pull his phone out, checking it impatiently for a message. Finally, after what seemed like hours, it came through.

**You have 30 minutes.**

Quickly, he straightened up and walked into the hospital. He kept to himself, and blended in well. He stopped outside the door of a room, hesitating for a moment, and then let himself inside. He closed the door behind him and locked it for good measure, and then went to sit by the bedside of Etheldrea.

He took in her appearance, noting the stitches traveling her right arm, and peeking out of the left shoulder of her hospital gown. He knew a longer one was on her back, and then the wound on her stomach. John had once described him as late, and here was the proof. His daughter was in the hospital after chasing down a criminal, _his_ criminal, and Sherlock Holmes blamed only himself.

He held her hand and whispered, "I am so sorry."

Her hand twitched and then her eyes started to open. Sherlock let go of her hand, sat back, and waited for her reaction. She blinked a few times, trying to comprehend her surroundings, and then she saw him.

"Dad?" she asked quietly, and then groaned, "Am I dead? No! I didn't even get him."

He said quickly, "You're not dead. Not yet."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because we need to talk."

"What for?"

"About your little stunt."

"You're not around, someone had to continue."

"You can't do this Etheldrea; you can't hunt down Moriarty's web."

"I found one man-"

"And he nearly killed you."

"They always do. I'll be smarter next time. Someone has to do this."

"Maybe someone already is."

She shook her head, "I don't understand."

"If you're going to stay in this world, don't follow me."

"Maybe I want to." She replied quietly, "Maybe I will."

Sherlock was about to reply but stopped when he realized what she meant, and it shook him to the core.

"Don't. You'll receive no satisfaction from it. Stay here, watch over Mrs. Hudson, and keep yourself and John in trouble."

"Why should I?"

"Because it's what I want."

"How do I know that? How do I know what _you _want? You're not really here. Dreaming. Anesthesia. I'm hallucinating right now. I have to be."

Sherlock didn't say anything, not wanting to confirm nor deny. He wanted to tell her it was real, that he was alive and lift that burden off her shoulders. But, how could he when his mission was barely even started and with no estimate end time? And after today, how could he let her come along, how could he have wanted her to come along? As much as he loathed it, Mycroft had been right. She had to stay in London, where she was safe and stop this foolish pursuit.

Etheldrea looked away from him and played at the hospital blanket's hem. She was nervous, and tired, and everything felt real but fake at the same time.

"You left me." She mumbled accusingly, "You keep doing that."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"Come back. Make everything right. Bring back the good."

Sherlock looked confused, "The good?"

She nodded, "Ever since you left, I keep seeing people everywhere, evil ones. Abusers, crooks, criminals. Everyone is. I tried to fight them on my own, I tried hunting down them one by one, but it went wrong. All wrong, and here I am, and he's gotten away. He was supposed to be my ticket."

"To what?"

"Moriarty. Finding everything he's connected to and destroying it, and now I've lost it. I've lost it. I've gone mad." She closed her eyes and leaned her head back.

Sherlock reached inside his coat and pulled out a silvery object. Letting it drop from a chain, he reached over and placed it around her neck. It was the pendant he had given her this time last year. He had found it on the ground after going back to the scene. A few chains had broken, but he fixed it.

He said, "Remember what I told you about this? What it represents?"

"Strength. Focus."

"Power too. Everything that makes you. You may be mad, but you're my daughter and a Holmes. It's expected."

She smiled at that, but frowned, "What am I supposed to do?"

"Live. Go back to London. Finish school. Join the Yard. That was your plan, wasn't it?"

"It _was_. How can I though? After everything that happened, and now this, how would they let me in? I'm reckless, and stupid, and a temper to match grandmother. I'm not someone they want."

"They'd be insane not to accept you."

She played with the pendant in her hands and frowned, "I can't let you . . . die . . . in vain. The network, someone has to-"

"I told you, maybe someone already is. Let go of those thoughts."

"But then I'll let go of you."

"You should. It's for the best."

"But I don't want to. If I let go, what is there in the world? There's too much evil out there, and it has to be stopped. You're a hero and you always saved the day, but now you're gone. I've been trying, but it's hard, and I'm not- I'm useless."

"Did you ever read the letter?" he asked.

"Letter?"

"The one that came the day after I jumped."

She shook her head, "I- I couldn't. I can't."

"Why?"

"It's hurts too much."

"If you read it, you'll feel better. You'll understand."

She yawned and tried to hide it. Her eyes had been blinking too much, and her words were starting to mumble. Sherlock smirked and stood up.

"I should go."

"No!" she cried, reaching for him, "No, please."

He grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze, "I'm sorry, but I have to. It's been nearly too long. Besides, you're going to sleep."

She yawned again, "No, I don't need sleep."

"_I_ don't need sleep. _You_ are a terror in the mornings."

"But you'll leave."

"You'll see me again."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

He waited until she relaxed some and her eyes closed.

"I love you daddy." She mumbled.

He leaned over and kissed her forehead, "I love you too, my Little Wanderer."

Then she was fast asleep. He left quickly, and just missed John, Lestrade, and Mycroft as they came back. Later, as he was riding back to a safe house, he would rub his eyes and find himself crying. It was only time he wondered if he had made the right choice in letting her go.

* * *

The next morning, when Etheldrea awoke, the first thing she noticed was the pendant in her hands. Then John reading a newspaper on her left. The moment she moved, he looked up and then straightened himself.

"Morning." She said with a hint of sleep.

"Good morning. Lestrade and Mycroft are here. Lestrade's getting breakfast and Mycroft's . . ."

"Keeping peace in the world, I suppose."

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, I-"she sighed, "I'm fine."

"The doctor said you might be able to leave this afternoon, but only if you're good."

"Well, if I'm double that I suppose I could leave right now."

He chuckled, "Not so fast." Then he frowned, "We need to have a talk."

"I know. I know, and I'm sorry. Really, truly."

"Oh- ok. Why, well, what happened?"

She clutched the pendant tighter, "I had my eyes opened."

"Okay. Good. I still have to ground you."

"Okay. What's the punishment?"

"You have to do the dishes. And take out the trash."

"Easy enough."

"No reading for fun. For two weeks."

"What? Seriously?" she groaned.

"Complain anymore and it'll be three."

She sighed, faked a glare, and then smiled, "I can deal with that."

"You're lucky, you know. You could've had much worse. We must have gotten there the moment Walker ran off."

"How did you find me? My directions weren't really the best, and I was hidden a bit."

"You texted Lestrade the address, remember?"

"No, I didn't. I didn't even know where I was, I had turned onto a different street."

"Maybe the man you were chasing did?"

"Oh god no, he was trying to kill me. Wait, you said he ran off? Did you see him at all?"

"No, sorry. We never saw him."

"But, that doesn't-"

Etheldrea frowned and started thinking of everything that could've happened. She couldn't remember much, couldn't remember anything after Walker taking her down. There was something she felt she was missing, but remembering only hurt her head. She shook it off and deleted it.

"I'm done. I won't look for him. I swear on it."

"This was easier than we thought it was going to be."

"Thought I was going to be stubborn, huh? I'm going to work on that."

"So, what are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to ask Lestrade if he wants to continue clearing dad's name. And then I'm going to apply to the Yard. I'm eighteen now, I should start taking on some sort of 'responsibilities'."

John laughed, "Don't grow up too fast on me though."

Etheldrea rolled her eyes and then looked around. On her right she could see a bag with extra clothes. Her boots and messenger bag were there too.

"Am I allowed to get dressed yet, or move around?"

"I'd wait until the Doctor comes in. speaking of, I'll let her know you're up. We've been waiting all night and morning to see you up."

He left and came back a minute later with the Doctor. She was nice, and very quick about her questions. Etheldrea responded to each honestly and patiently, and in the end Etheldrea was a few hours from discharge. They wanted to keep her for a little bit still just to see how she got along, but other than that she was home free.

The stiches and scars still hurt, but nothing some Ibuprofen couldn't cure. She'd be on bed rest or low activity for a few weeks, but she would be perfectly fine by the middle of December. Just in time for Christmas the Doctor said before she left.

As soon as she had, she got up with John's help much to her protesting. Then she grabbed the clothes and went to change. It took longer than normal since the stiches on her back pulled quite a bit, but she slowly figured it out. After that she went back to sit on the bed and talk with John.

About ten minutes later, the door opened and Lestrade and Mycroft both walked in. Lestrade looked pleased to see her up and awake, and Mycroft looked like himself if with maybe just a tiny smile.

"Hey kid." Lestrade greeted, "Feeling alright?"

"A lot better. John and I had a nice talk."

"Really?" Lestrade looked to John for confirmation.

"Everything's resolved. We don't have to pull any drastic measures. She is grounded though."

"_Drastic_ measures?" Etheldrea asked, "Were you going to lock me in a tower?"

Lestrade said, "Well, your hair's getting long enough. I don't think I've ever seen you with hair longer than your chin."

She held a lock of hair that just reached the top of her shoulder. In the past four months she hadn't cared about grooming.

"It looks nice though. Anyway, I've got some bad news."

Etheldrea sat up straighter, though it pained her a bit, but didn't look alarmed. Bad news from Lestrade could be anything from a kitten stuck in a tree to London on fire. What's the worst thing that could happen now?

From under a chair, he pulled out a large brown paper bag, and from that pulled out some items in large plastic bags. She vaguely recognized one bag as a pair of pants along with a grey and bloody fabric. The other bag was a black fabric.

"Your pants are fine, but the shirt isn't worth the damage. What really worries me is your coat."

"Let me see."

He gave the coat bag to her and she pulled it out. Immediately she noticed the back was nearly in two pieces. Then she found the shoulder had a gash in it, and then the right arm. The gold threated EH on the label wad dotted with blood. If it was to be repaired, it wouldn't have the smooth, finished look it once did.

"Also, your scarf's gone too."

The purple scarf, lost when Walker had tried to choke her with it.

"We can always repair it." Lestrade said, "It would be fixed in a jiffy."

But would it be the same? The same coat she had opened up on her eleven birthday? The coat with too long sleeves needing to be rolled up that slowly transformed into too short? The same coat that had given her the same silhouette as Sherlock. She had looked like him, tried to be like him.

But, she couldn't do that. Not anymore.

She stood up and put the torn coat in a waste bin. Then went to sit back down. Lestrade and john looked equally shocked while Mycroft watched her questioningly. He looked as though he knew what she was thinking, but couldn't understand her reasons.

She told them, "It's time for a new start."

* * *

Later that morning, just an hour before Etheldrea could leave, Mycroft wanted to talk to her. They'd come back with lunch, a real lunch, and none of that "damn lumpy hospital mush" as Lestrade had put it.

Mycroft sat down across from her and started, "this is quite a bug change for you."

She nodded, "I suppose."

"I do wonder what brought this on."

She scratched her arm, and shrugged, "Don't know. Just came to my senses."

"Etheldrea Wisteria Holmes, I know when you're lying to me."

"Of course you do. Which is something I really admire about you, you know. You always know things."

"Etheldrea . . ."

She sighed, "I saw dad."

"Sorry?"

"Last night. It was a dream. Or a hallucination. Or both? I don't know, going in to deep makes my head hurt. All I know is, I was out of it and I saw dad."

"Did he say anything?"

"Yeah. A lot of things, actually. And, look, I know it sounds crazy, but it helped. I really am going to try and be better. I'm going to try and figure out . . . things. Me. Everything's confusing, and I feel like I'm lost, but I'll find the right way eventually."

"Please enlighten me what they right way is? For as long as I've known you, you've always had some alternative motive for the things you do. Why should this be any different?"

She squinted at him, "Are you saying you don't think I can change?"

"I won't believe it until I see it, eighteen years' worth of looking after you have shown me you're prone to the same behavior as you're father. But, I will support you in whatever way I can."

She smiled, "Thank you. So, and this probably isn't the right time to ask, but are you ever going to downgrade security on me?"

He smirked, "I was wondering when you'd ask that. Level three, same as John."

"Yes!"

"As I told you months ago, I would still want to check in on you."

She nodded, "Yeah. How about lunch every other Saturday?"

He smiled, "Sounds delightful."


	4. December

**Distill a whole year down into a day**

**Act like we all start over with a pristine slate**

**But to get yourself a new life you've got to give the other one away**

**And I'm starting to believe in the power of a name**

**Cause it can't be a mistake if I just call it change**

**December**

**Can't turn around now**

**December**

**Break the chain, can't live in circles again**

* * *

She had to be better; she had to prove it to them. John, Mycroft, Lestrade, they were all counting on her. Etheldrea knew what to do, and how to do, and for the next month she uncharacteristically followed through.

Etheldrea kept off her feet, stayed relaxed while she healed, and when she was well enough to be as active as she usually was she helped around the flat. There had still been a few boxes that they had never gotten around to unpacking. One weekend, she got to it and finished it all.

She did everything he asked, and beyond that. First, she took over washing the dishes while John dried. Then, cleaning up all the rooms, and then doing laundry, and then cleaning rooms that didn't even need to be cleaned for a few more days yet. She was helpful in everyday chores, even when she still had school going on.

She finished her homework in the blink of an eye, and though that wasn't unusual, she was getting everything absolutely right. John knew she tried to fit in with the others in her age group, and had often purposely got answers wrong so as to be above average but below an upper level. He had gone to a school conference just a few days ago. She was excelling in everything.

John was suspicious. Had been from the start. He knew he should've been happy, but well . . . it wasn't Etheldrea. She talked and acted like Etheldrea still, but the Etheldrea he lived with was like a robotic maid on the highest setting.

Finally, one day in the middle of December, after coming home from work to the smell of burning chicken – at least he thought it was chicken - he knew they had to talk.

She was by the stove, waving a cloth by the fire alarm, keeping the smoke at bay.

"Sorry." She said, "I'm really sorry, I thought-"

"Hey, it's ok."

He put the burnt food in the sink and ran cold water over it.

"I'm going to guess cooking is something you inherited from your father." He said with half a laugh.

Etheldrea didn't say anything, not looking at him, and collapsed onto a chair. Her hair covered her face, refusing to look at him. John frowned and went to sit next to her. He put a hand on her shoulder and tried to get her to talk.

"What's up? It's just chicken. I've burnt it plenty of times in the past."

She shook her head.

"Really, it's fine. We'll just get take out like we always do."

"I'm sorry." She said.

"It's _fine_. Please, tell me what's wrong. You've been out of sorts for a month, and it's not that I don't appreciate the cleaning and the grades and the crunchy chicken, but it's not you."

"I just . . . I just don't want to you to have to worry about things." She didn't look at him, playing with the hem of her shirt.

"It's alright. You don't have to do everything. We can share the weight."

"Well- I know we can, but- never mind, let's just go takeout."

She started to stand, but he stopped her, "Now hold on. 'But' what?"

"Nothing, really, it's nothing. It's stupid."

"Nothing coming from you could ever be stupid."

"You should have to worry about me."

"I'm always going to worry about you, why do you think I call you during your lunch period? Why do you think I pick you up from school? Why do you think I look after you? I'm always going to worry, that's what you do when you have someone you care about."

"You don't have to worry about me."

"But I'm going to."

"No, I mean you don't _have_ to. You're under no obligation to look after me."

For a moment, he didn't understand where she was going with the conversation, but then it clicked. As much as he had been worried about her, she in turn worried about him and about what he was thinking. He kneeled in front of her and brushed the hair back from her face.

"I will _never_ leave you. Got it?"

She nodded but he could see in her eyes she didn't believe him, not yet. Her walls were up again, though weaker this time, and he knew it would be awhile before she trusted him completely. But soon enough he would make sure she never felt alone again.

* * *

The next day, Abigail came to visit and the girls spent their time in Kensington Gardens. After updating each other on recent life, Abigail had a boyfriend now (who was three months younger than her) and was spending a lot of her time studying for psychology exams.

"Psychology? You're positive that's what you want to do?" Etheldrea asked.

"Definitely. Helping people is my life!"

She smiled, "Then good for you. Are you ready for the work that coming up? Eight years of school, I believe."

"Nothing I can't handle. What about you? Where are you applying?"

Etheldrea shrugged, "Well, I'm . . . not."

"No?"

"Nope."

Abigail asked, "So you're going to work? The Yard, right? Have you applied?"

"Not yet. I haven't exactly told John or my Uncle yet."

"Will they react badly? Oh my god, when Adam told mom and dad he was dropping out, they freaked out!"

"Well, I'm not dropping out of school. I'm going to finish out this semester and the next. I think John will be fine though, and Uncle Mycroft . . . well, I'm sure he won't be happy, but my life isn't about making him happy."

"Cool. That Inspector you like, are you going to work for him?"

"I won't for a while. I've got to undergo training for a couple years, and even then I might not be assigned to him. Depending on what my supervisor will think."

"Two years of training? Seriously?"

"You're going to be training for eight!"

"Yeah but I won't be in a job by then. Speaking of that Inspector, have you been talking to his nephew?"

"Don't even bring him up."

"Oh my god, did you two talk again, go on a date? Tell me! Tell me! How come I haven't heard about this?"

"Because there is nothing to tell. We haven't talked since last Christmas. We aren't going to. It was a crush, keywords was and crush. Things like that don't last. Besides, I don't date, Abby."

"I know, but I have to do these things to you. You're my best friend, and I'm yours. It's my job."

Etheldrea rolled her eyes, "Anyway, how's your boyfriend doing? Randy? Raymond?"

"That's not even close. Roland. He's awesome. He's coming over for Christmas, and meeting my parents."

"Doing that early then?"

"Yeah. There's a bit of an unspoken agreement between us about meeting boyfriends now."

"Yeah, your last one was a total _prick_."

Abigail started to agree, then looked at Etheldrea closely, "Did you just make a joke? The way I make jokes? Oh my god, London is falling! Etheldrea Holmes has made a joke!"

Etheldrea laughed and shook her head, "Mrs. Hudson hasn't left; London can't fall."

Abigail gasped, "Can we go see her? She makes the best biscuits! Please?"

"I don't see why not. I'm sure she won't mind."

"You're the closest thing she has to a grandchild, of course she won't."

* * *

As predicted, the landlady of Baker Street was more than welcome to Etheldrea dropping by. She had chided when she saw Etheldrea without a proper coat and just a jumper. But she let it go and made the girls hot chocolate; peppermint, Etheldrea's favorite.

"How have you been?" Mrs. Hudson asked Etheldrea, "And John?"

"We're doing fine. Life's not too exciting though."

Mrs. Hudson smiled sadly, "I know what you mean, dear. And Miss Abigail, what about you? It's been an awfully long time since I've seen you."

"I'm great. I really miss London and you too."

"Especially the biscuits, right? You know, Etheldrea helped me make up the recipe when she was a little girl."

"Really?" Abigail looked at Etheldrea, "Since when do you bake?"

She replied, "Baking is a science."

Mrs. Hudson laughed, "I remember you, covered in flour head to toe while stating that to your Uncle."

Abigail laughed too, "Did she really? Please tell me she tried to hug him."

"She did! The moment she realized covering him in flour would annoy him, of course."

Etheldrea groaned, "Oh no, not stories! Please, not stories!"

Abigail grinned, "You must have a ton of them Mrs. Hudson.

"More than I can count. Have you heard about how she was always playing pirates with her father. She was the Pirate Queen of London."

"Oh my god, that's so cute!"

Etheldrea groaned again, "Nope. Nope. No. I refuse to have that word describe me."

She put her head in her arms and tried to hide, and then she had an idea. She lifted her head up and looked to Mrs. Hudson.

"May I go . . . go up and see, you know."

Mrs. Hudson smiled sadly, "Of course dear."

Etheldrea stood up and walked out to the hall and then to the stairs of her old haven. Every creak of the step, every touch of the crinkly wall was familiar to her. At the door to the living room, she slowly opened it to reveal the dusty furniture. Particles hung in the air, barely visible in as the windows were covered. Small slivers of light peaked through, giving just hints of where everything was.

Etheldrea knew it all by heart though, and took a brave step in and then another. She walked over to the couch and reached under the cushions, pulling out the letter she had left there the day of the funeral. From the looks of it, it hadn't been touched since that day. She had been thinking about the dream she had when she was in the hospital. The letter was important.

She folded it up, and then put it in her pocket, sure to read it when the time came.

* * *

That time was a bit longer than she intended. She had wanted to the moment she got home, but she chickened out. But she was slowly gathering the strength to read it. Two weeks after visiting Mrs. Hudson, Christmas came and went.

John and Etheldrea didn't do much celebrating. Presents, and then ham and potatoes for dinner. That was it. It was a very solemn occasion for them. No traditional movies, no decorations, no music. Etheldrea had heard a group of people singing We Wish You a Merry Christmas during the afternoon, and both she and John hated it.

After they both went to their rooms for the night, Etheldrea stayed up for a long while. It was in her drawer, just waiting for her. She had put it off for months, and would continue to if she didn't do this now.

Alone in her room, she sat at her desk and pulled out the letter from a drawer. The only light on was the desk lamp, throwing shadows around the room. Carefully she opened the letter, smoothing the folds and laying it down.

Her heart beat fast and she was ready to shove it away again, ready to distill the heartache as she had done so many times. But she needed to read it. One last message from her dad, and she could move. She had to move on.

Gathering her courage she read.

_To my dearest daughter, you have absolutely no idea how much I love you and the length I would go to keep you safe. You are sure to have questions, and I'm sorry I can't be there to answer them. Certain events have compelled me to leave you but I know you will be better off. The past year hasn't been the best for me, and so I've gone somewhere to make everything better. _

_There are many things I'm not proud of, many bad things that I've done. And that's just how the world is. Not now, but sometime in the future you encounter bad people, places, and many bad temptations. You may not know it at first but eventually they will reveal themselves to you. Despite how I try, I won't always be there to protect you. My hope is that you will be smart enough to know not fall for them, but if you do I want you to know that it will never be your fault._

_The world can be a terrible place, but there is far more good in it than bad. If you search long and hard, you'll see what I mean. Right now I'm in a place where most people seem unfriendly but in truth they are only trying to help me feel better. You will find good in the most unexpected places. _

_With Grandmother and Grandfather in France, and Mycroft always working, I know you feel scared and alone right now, but no matter how close or how far, I am always with you. And even if I'm not there, if you keep those you care about by your side, you will never find yourself alone. There will be challenges but I know you have the power to overcome them, and you will._

_It'll be a long time before I'm back home, but I'm sure I'll see you before then. Mycroft promised he'd let me see you soon enough, but if you read this letter before than I want you to know I live everyday proud to be the father of the brightest, smartest, most wonderful child I have ever known and no matter what you do I will continue to be. Until I see you again my Little Wanderer._

_All my Love, Dad_

She folded the latter up again and carefully tucked it away so it wouldn't be lost. She wiped away the tears that fell, and then went to bed. It was the last time she grieved for her dad, and would move on.

And she was finally happy.


	5. Little Black Dress

**It's been so long, and I am so sorry! To cut a long excuse short, two essays, two exams, two rewrites of this chapter and a broken laptop later, I am back! And with a document program that actually works too! Also, by the way I have no idea how joining Scotland Yard goes and what the first day and rest of the job is like. I just googled the website and looked at yahoo answers and went from there. I'm sorry for all inaccuracies. **

**You came, lifted me up but then you dropped a hurricane**

**Now I'm fighting to find the ground again, to steady my feet**

**Get up off my knees and just remember**

**That I am more than just somebody's puppet**

**I can find the cord and then I'll cut it**

**I stand a pretty good chance to dust myself off and dance**

**I'll get my little black dress on**

**And if I put on my favorite song**

**I'm gonna dance until you're all gone**

* * *

December twenty-eighth marked the day Etheldrea applied for her first and hopefully only job. January third marked the day she was invited for interviews. January fifth was the day she got the phone call. She had a job.

Monday through Thursday after school, and on Sunday she would report in for her shifts, train with an officer and do her duties as a new police constable.

* * *

That Monday afternoon, she walked into the Yard and paused to look around. Over a month and nothing had changed, but it all felt so different. She wasn't there for a case, or to convince Lestrade to help her. In fact, she wouldn't be seeing Lestrade much because his office hours ended an hour after she started. But, she was here to work, to do her part to keep London safe.

"Miss Holmes?"

She looked towards the voice, finding that it belonged to a brown haired man. He looked formal and professional, a white shirt and black pants and tie, and a no - nonsense look on his face. Etheldrea stepped forward and shook his hand.

"I'm Inspector Jackson Michaels, your supervisor."

"It's nice to meet you, sir."

He started walking, "Likewise. Follow me, and we'll get you situated and started. Today will be an easy day, general instructions, learning the schedule, meeting your teammates. First things first, your uniform. For the next two or more years of your life, you'll have to get accustomed to changing."

She followed him to an elevator where they traveled up two floors. Getting off, she took in the new surroundings, memorizing each location. As they neared the locker rooms, he pulled out a slip of paper and handed it to her. It was a combination and a locker number.

"This is yours, everything you need is inside. I'll wait for you here."

"Thank you, sir."

She walked in and looked for the locker, number one – zero – six, and entered the combination. It was a standard police lockers, with her uniform waiting. Quickly she changed and put her school things away. As she fixed her tie, a woman walked in. Dressed same ash she, she gave Etheldrea a once over and then sneered and walked away.

It didn't faze her though, Etheldrea had grown accustom to those kinds of reactions and she wasn't going to let it shake her confidence. Closing and locking her things, she hurried back out to meet Inspector Michaels. He led her down a few hallways until he stopped outside a door.

"This is my office. Every report can be delivered on a silver tray on my desk whenever. If you ever need to see me, there is a high probability I will be here. If you can't, you can find Sergeant Lawrence Collins. You'll meet him later tonight."

"Understood."

Etheldrea made note of everywhere they walked, interrogation rooms, waiting rooms, cubicles, every place she might be. Inspector Michaels stopped near a cubicle where a dark haired woman was working. She looked up and then stood at attention.

"Officer Rachel Robinson, meet Officer Etheldrea Holmes. You two will be working together closely for some time."

The girls shook hands, and Etheldrea said, "Lovely to meet you."

Robinson only nodded.

The tension she was giving off worried even Etheldrea. Her dark eyes glared at her, seemingly not noticed by their superior. Etheldrea shook it off and waited for her next instructions.

Inspector Michaels told them, "Rachel will show you the ropes. You two will be patrolling together for the rest of week, and we'll see what happens from there on. Speaking of, I believe now would be a perfect time. Good afternoon Officer Holmes, Robinson."

"Afternoon, sir." Both girls replied.

He walked away, and Etheldrea turned to Robinson to wait for her instructions. The woman walked towards the elevator, motioning for Etheldrea to follow. She didn't say a word to her until they got outside and started walking. Her voice was cold and formal.

"I patrol every day from four until eight. You'll do the same until you start full time. Sometimes we'll be called away to guard a scene, or handle a situation. Until we keep the peace. Any questions?"

"What's our perimeter?"

"It changes now and then. Some days just around here, some days we drive to a different location. You'll find out every day from Sergeant Collins. For now, we'll walk to Vincent Square, then to Victoria Square, and then back."

"What happens afterwards?"

"Break, and then paper work. I have a half – hour, you'll be getting ten minutes since you're only part time. Collins will take over from there though." Robinson sounded almost relieved at the thought.

Etheldrea didn't have any more questions after that, and Robinson didn't talk to her. They walked the route quietly, watching for any disturbance or disasters. Nothing out of the ordinary happened as they made their way around. It was tense though. Even though they weren't talking, Robinson ignored her. She handled it like she always did though, ignoring her too.

Around six, just as they were leaving Victoria Square, they heard their first disturbance. A block away, two men were shouting at each other. Then they heard what sounded like glass breaking. Running towards the noise, they found the two men standing outside a cafe about to get physical. Robinson immediately went to put herself between them, taking care of the situation quicker than Etheldrea could comprehend.

A minute later, the men had calmed down, and one was cleaning over the glass that had fallen and broken. Robinson walked away from them and back towards Etheldrea. She stood there awkwardly, wondering if she should have tried to help but also feeling like Robinson wouldn't have liked it.

"You get the next one." Robinson said as she walked right past her.

Etheldrea nodded, not seen by the officer, and continued on. Unfortunately, there was no "next one" for Etheldrea to prove herself with, and they ended up back at the Yard. On their floor, Robinson pointed Etheldrea in the direction of the cubicles and then disappeared to the locker rooms.

Etheldrea looked around the room, searching for the man who was supposed to help her, but it was difficult to find someone you didn't know. But, a moment later a stern faced man walked towards her and she figured this was Sergeant Collins.

He held out his hand as he neared her and they shook.

"Good evening, sir." She said.

"And to you. Follow me and we'll get you started. How was your first few hours?"

As she followed him towards a desk, she replied, "Mostly uneventful."

"Lucky thing for your first day. You'll see more action soon." He stopped by an empty desk with a computer, "Any open desk around here will do when you start writing reports. If for some reason they're all busy, just go find one where you can. When you go into documents, you'll find the templates ready to fill out. Print them out, and turn them into to Inspector Michaels. Any questions?"

"What if I finish all repots?"

"There are files to be organized in the room next to the lockers, there's usually one or two people in there at a time. There'll be instructions in the room near the door. Now and then one of your coworkers may need help, do what you can. There'll always be work."

"Thank you, sir."

"Welcome to the team, Officer Holmes."

He walked away, and Etheldrea relaxed a bit. She had meet three of her superiors, and so far only one seemed to dislike her. Not bad for a first, she thought.

Sitting down and pulling up the document she needed, she filled out her report and finished it quickly. Then she walked towards the lockers and entered the only room near it. On a table next to the door, a taped and laminated piece of paper held the instructions.

From the corner of the room, she held someone shuffling around and went to investigate. The same girl that had walked into the locker rooms earlier was sitting with her back to Etheldrea. She walked towards her and then spoke.

"Hello I'm Etheldrea Holmes."

The girl glanced at her and went back to work, "We know who you are."

"We?"

"Everyone here. How can we forget?"

Etheldrea ignored her, "Any specific place I should start?"

"Don't know if you should work back here. You might corrupt them, _again_."

"Again?" she replied with an edge, "I've only just started."

"When your dad kidnapped those kids, guess what had to happen here?"

"He didn't kidnap _anyone_."

"Whatever, just go do something useful. I've got work to do."

Etheldrea clenched her fists and walked to the other side of the room, separating them by a few rows of cabinets. She pulled over a chair and started going through. The next two hours passed in silence, but Etheldrea was sure at one point she had heard the whispered word _Freak_.

* * *

After her first day, John wanted to hear everything. Etheldrea didn't want him to worry though, so she left out the way some people treated her. He didn't think to ask, thank god, and so she was off the hook. However, she wasn't sure how long she'd be able to keep it secret if the behavior continued.

The next day, after changing into her uniform and punching in, she learned she and Robinson were going to guard a crime scene. She was led to the car park, and climbed into the back seat next to another constable. There was chatter in the car, but no one spoke to Etheldrea and truth be told she was a bit relieved. Being ignored was better than receiving attention in her experiences.

Once there everyone went to their places and kept people moving along. It had been a fire, the crime scene, but Inspector Michaels wasn't sure if it was an arson or an accident. Etheldrea had been listening in, unable to help herself, and stayed just a bit closer to the scene than she probably should have.

Michaels was getting more and more frustrated as time went on, and then he saw Etheldrea standing there.

"Holmes, come here." He called.

She obeyed, "Yes, sir?"

He grinded his teeth before he spoke, "What do you make of this?"

She looked around, seeing a few people watching them, "I don't know if-"

"Holmes, a family may be in danger here."

She took a final glance around and asked, "Where did the fire originate?"

"The stove. The husband said it just went up in flames, even though he bought a few weeks ago."

"Are you sure?"

". . . No. He's demanding an investigation, and replacement to everything lost. There's something about him though that doesn't sit right with me. I've heard many complement about you from Detective Inspector Lestrade, will you help?"

She nodded, "It's my duty. May I see the scene?"

"Follow me."

He led her inside and she looked at the surroundings. The main hallway was clear at one end, slowly transforming to smoke stained walls. One door, the door to the kitchen, was burned away saved for the bottom hinge. She stepped over it and walked in, taking in the ashy remains. The walls were black from the bottom, slowly fading to a blue color. In some areas she could see the floor used to be a brown paisley pattern. A black table was slowly cracking apart, appliances were stained black or burned away, and the stove seemed the worst of all.

It was a black mound, barely distinguishable as a stove. She stood by it, looking over every detail. She sniffed the air, smelling mainly the left over smoke but also something else she couldn't put her finger on. She looked up at the lights and noticed one bulb above the table. IT had melted in the heat and turned up so that it pointed towards the stove. Walking over there, she smelled more of the mystery substance.

"Arson." She said.

"What's your proof?" Michaels asked.

"Come over here. What do you smell?"

He stepped over by her and sniffed, "I'm not sure."

"Neither am I, but I believe it might be some sort of cleaning product."

"What does that have to do with this?"

"Cleaning agents are some of the most common flammable objects. What do you see on the floor?"

"Black."

"Beyond that, let your eyes adjust."

He knelt down and started for a bit, "That pattern is awful."

"Yes, and also easily cloaked. There's a different pattern in there, a line leading from this side of the table towards the stove. This is where the fire started."

"How can you be sure?"

"The light above the table, see it? If the fire had started at the stove, it would be pointed towards the door. Someone poured a liquid form here to the stove, maybe even doused it, and then started the fire. Was any matches found, or maybe a lighter?"

"No, nothing. Someone kept it then. I'd searched the last known person in the room. If they started it with a lighter, there might be some burn marks on their hand."

"Thank you Officer Holmes."

"Just doing my job."

She left the house and went back to her post, a small sense of achievement following her. She heard what everyone was saying, the little whispers saying she was involved somehow, but they were proven wrong later that night when the husband confessed to it. She smiled for the rest of the night, and didn't care about the glares she kept receiving.

* * *

As each day came and went, Etheldrea could feel the tension towards her increase. As she passed by people she could hear the insults, the gossip, and the complaints. Any day now she was expecting Inspector Michaels or Sergeant Collins to pull her aside or take her in for questioning but they didn't.

In fact, she rarely saw them after her second day, and really only saw Officer Robinson. The woman never tried to talk to her, and only grew tenser as they worked together. Etheldrea could see the stress all over her, the glares coming off in waves when she wasn't looking, and just a hint of malice n her voice when she was forced to talk.

It wasn't until she found the note in her locker that she decided enough was enough.

**You don't belong here.**

She had endured so much in her life, dealt with so many bullies and events. She was not about to let anyone bully her out of the job she had been waiting years for. Crumbling it up and dropping it on the floor, Etheldrea marched outside and to the officer. Robinson was chatting with someone when Etheldrea tapped on her shoulder.

"May I speak to you." Etheldrea wasn't taking no for an answer.

Robinson rolled her eyes and walked over to a corner area.

"What do you want?" she sneered.

"I know you don't like me, I know most everyone here doesn't. But it's not going to change the fact that I am here, that this is my job, and whispers and petty notes aren't going to make me leave. I have spent nine years of my life waiting to get this job, and if you think you and the rest of the "team" can bully me out, you better watch yourself because I have _never_ given up easily."

"Do you have any idea why no one wants you around here? Do you have any idea the mess your father caused us here? How many of us almost went out of a job? Did you know I almost got sacked? Wanna know why? I authorized your father on a scene once, a scene that he may have committed. Did you even think about what the reaction to you would be? Didn't you think no one would want to see your face around here again? Didn't you think you were better off at the very least somewhere else? But no, you had to do what you and your father do best, ruin everything for everyone else."

"You think I didn't know? Oh, I knew alright. I knew coming here might be a giant mistake. I knew everyone was going to resent me, and I knew I was going to be facing a lot of backlash also. But I followed through because this is where I want to be and no one is going to stop me. Not even a grown brat with daddy issues-"

_SLAP_

The room grew dead silent, all turning to see what had caused such a noise. No one was all that surprised to see Rachel Robinson with her hand still in the air, a furious expression on her face as she watched Etheldrea rub her cheek with one hand and the other ready to slap back.

"Robinson!" Inspector Michaels walked in, "My office. Now."

With a final glare at Etheldrea, she obeyed. Etheldrea clenched her fist and took a breath.

"You're after her, Holmes." Michaels said before walking away.

Releasing it, she calmly walked over to a desk and sat down. She waited a short while, ignoring everyone else around her. When Robinson came back, not saying a word, Etheldrea went to her lecture.

She knocked on the door first, and Michaels told her to go in.

"Take a seat Holmes." He said.

The moment she sat down, she started to explain, "I'm sorry sir, really, truly am. I'm trying to get my temper in control but sometimes it gets out. I know there is no excuse for the things I said, but I'm not going to let myself be bullied. Not again. Never again."

"And you shouldn't. I'm not going to lecture you like Robinson, you know what you contributed and you're going to fix. Write her an apology, she's doing the same."

"Is that all sir?"

"No. Miss Holmes, do you know why I wanted you part of this team?"

She shook her head.

"I saw what you said. Dedication, ambition, determinedness. I choose you because I thought you would be one of the most valuable people on the force, and so far I was right. But only if you can be a team player. I know what the others are saying, but give it time. The rumors will be put to rest when they see you out there doing what they should all be doing. You're instrumental here Holmes, don't let anyone tell you different and don't tell anyone any different. You can go now."

She stood up and smiled, "Thank you sir. And thank you for choosing me. I won't let you down."

"I'm counting on it."

* * *

**AN: There's a couple new faces which you can view on my tumblr - link on my profile. I'm not entirely sure how often we'll be seeing each one of them, but I do have some ideas for Rachel Robinson. Until next time!**


	6. Root Down

**I'm a writer here upon this ship**

**On a sea of unnamed and untamed passages**

**And every vessel's meant for pouring out**

**And every bloom has to make room to root down**

**Give more,**

**Give it all away**

**I'm sure it'll come back someday**

**You gotta let go to let it circle back around**

**To rise up you gotta learn to root down**

**Learn to root down**

* * *

The first week finished.

And then the second.

And then the third.

Etheldrea was exhausted to say the least, but she powered herself through every day. She and Robinson talked very little, and everyone stayed out of her way while she stayed out of theirs. She did her rounds, filled out her paper work, did her best to be a team player even though no one wanted her on the team. It was . . . repetitive.

The same thing every day; walking around London stopping drunks and would – be crooks, sitting at a desk filing the day's events. Sure, there were new places to go now and then, things to guard, or people who were getting into huge trouble but those happened only once a week. And she was still going to school with the same boring assignments that she just barely had time to do now.

Her dad had always told her no matter how dull or boring it was, she had to finish school. Well, she had no plans for University and as the months went on school was doing nothing for her. There were only four more months left and she'd be done though. Working full time walking around London stopping drunks and . . . would – be crooks. All day. Almost every day.

She hated repetition with a passion. It was why she wanted a job as an officer. Things were supposed to be different every day, and technically they were. But that didn't stop the same routine from popping up. And speaking of routines, another on her list of horrendous things was lunch every other Saturday with Uncle Mycroft.

The first meeting had been completely silent. They had just sat there and ate, and as soon as she was finished Etheldrea left with a mumbled bye. The second time had gone better, still quiet and Mycroft supplied most of the conversation, but better. Slowly Etheldrea began adding more, filling him in on her life and John's if he asked, even if to only humor her.

It was on one of these days that she sat with her Uncle chatting about the latest days' work.

"How do you do it?" she asked, "Essentially the same thing over and over, every day?"

He replied, "It's my job. I choose it."

"But you never get bored? Tired of the same threats?"

"I suppose it's much too exciting to feel bored. Is working at the Yard really that awful?"

"No, no, not at all, but you know me."

He smirked, "That I do. My advice is to give it time. It took me years to get to where I am today, the same as it will take you years to become an Inspector."

She smiled, "You think I'll become an Inspector?"

"Yes. Without a doubt. You have the determination, and the dedication."

"That's what Inspector Michaels said."

"You do well to listen to him. Of course, after you finish school. Speaking of, I haven't heard about any applications to University. It's nearly too late, you know."

"I know. I'm not going."

"Sorry?"

"You heard me. I don't think it's right for me. I'm already working where I want, I could've finished a few years ago, why should I continue?"

"What would your father say?"

Etheldrea knew he wouldn't have been happy. He had always encouraged her in school, but she didn't want to be there.

"I know it's not what you want, or what dad would have wanted. I'm not asking for support, but I do want trust."

"Trust?"

"Yes! Trust in me. I'm only eighteen, and I know I probably don't know what's entirely best for me, but there are some things I do know."

Mycroft observed her for a minute and then nodded, "Very well."

Etheldrea smiled and took a bite out of her pasta. Mycroft had finished the main course a while ago and was sneaking bites from a piece of brownie when he thought she wasn't looking.

"Cheating?" she asked with a smirk.

He glared at her, "I've lost enough."

"Well, if you must."

"Besides, not all of us have a youthful metabolism anymore."

"Yes, but I'm still not cheating on my diet with my first love."

"A 'first love'? I'm hardy a man who loves anything."

She looked away, "Don't I know it."

He sighed, "Etheldrea, I don't mean-"

"I know. Sorry, my fault. Don't worry, I'm the same."

"Are you though? A 'special' day is coming up soon. You don't have anyone to spend it with?"

"Oh please. You would know before even I did. No, I'm like you. I don't need a _relationship_."

"Much like your father too. How peculiar the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, even more so when it's nearly identical."

"I suppose you would know better than I." she frowned, "What was he like? I – I regret that I never asked."

Mycroft sighed and got a faraway look in his eyes as he recalled, "Always curious, always exploring, trying to decipher even the simplest of things, that is, when he wasn't trying to make the dog walk the plank. You know a thing or two about that, Pirate Queen of London."

She rolled her eyes, "He read me a lot of pirate stories, alright."

"As did our father. Every night before bed. It contributed to our fondness for reading, same as your dad reading to you did."

"Yeah. Life was good." She smiled in remembrance, and then frowned, "I don't understand why he left. He promised me so many times he never would, but then he does it."

"I'm sorry my dear, I don't know." He looked down, "The last anyone head from him was John on that phone call."

She narrowed her eyes at him, "What?"

"What do you mean 'what'?" he looked up at her with alarm, almost like he sensed his mistake

"How did you know about the phone call? John never told anyone that, except for me. There's no way you could know about it."

"It was in the coroner's report."

"How did Molly Hooper know he was talking to John?"

"It was- found on the roof. The last made call was to John."

She shook her head, "That's . . . alright. I have to go. John's expecting me soon."

She stood up and grabbed the brown jacket she had been borrowing from John. Muttering goodbye, she left the Diogenes Club and hailed a cab.

* * *

As she made her way inside St. Bart's Hospital, she had no idea how she was going to be able to get the records. She also had no idea why she was doing this. There was just something about how Uncle Mycroft had spoken and acted. She _thought_ she had been able to see through his lies, but maybe she wasn't as good as she thought.

Now would be a test of her recent position in life. As an officer she did have the certain right to call for evidence, but she wasn't here for a case. She wasn't even here for anything justifiable to gain access to the records.

But, her one hope was Molly. She hadn't seen Dr. Hooper since the funeral, and even then she was just there. She hadn't spoken to anyone there, and she had taken a seat at the back. Then, once everything was over, she vanished. Etheldrea knew it must have been hard on her, she had had a crush on her dad after all, and she didn't blame her. She only hoped that her presence wouldn't upset Molly any more than when they first met.

She walked down the corridors until she got to the morgue, and heard the familiar voice inside.

"_Are you sure? . . . Oh- okay. . . . I think so. . . .When is- Oh! Okay. Yeah, bye."_

Etheldrea knocked on the door and let herself in. Molly turned around and looked shocked to see her. She put some equipment she was holding down, and then took off her gloves.

Nervously she said, "Etheldrea, how . . . nice to see you."

Etheldrea nodded, "You too. How have you been?"

"Well. Busy. Really busy. You know January has the highest death rates, and I know its February but there's still a lot of paper work to be done, and- sorry. How have you been?"

"Good, all things considering. I work at Scotland Yard now."

"Really? Congratulations! You always wanted to work there."

"It's been great, but I've been hitting some rough patches now and then."

"Well, that's to be expected of course. Oh! I'm sorry, that sounds terrible. I mean, it was terrible, and-"

"Molly, its fine. There's a reason I'm here. I need your help."

She took a breath, "What can I do?"

"You were the one to write the report, weren't you? On my dad, after- after."

She nodded quietly.

"Was there anything about a cell phone in it?"

Molly's eyes widened a bit, "Yeah, there was. I think he had called John before he . . ."

"Really?" Etheldrea looked dejected, "Alright. That's all. Thank you."

"I'm sorry. Really I am. I wish I could-" she stopped and shook her head, "Never mind."

"It's fine. Everything's fine." She smiled, "He liked you, you know. He considered you a friend. He told me once."

She started walk away, but Molly stopped and grabbed her arm, "Wait, uh, if you need something, anything, you can call me. I know you've got John, and Lestrade, and your Uncle, and- but if you need me, I'm here. Well, not all the time since I don't live here, but you know. Here, let me write down my number."

Molly turned away and grabbed some paper but Etheldrea stopped her.

"I actually do have your number. Dad programmed it into my phone a few years ago."

"He did? Oh, I didn't know."

"It's ok. Thank you again, Molly. I'll let you get back to work. Have a good day."

"You too."

Etheldrea left, and on her way back home she thought about when she had first met Dr. Molly Hooper. She had been thirteen when she entered St. Bart's that afternoon and searched for her dad among the labs. She had found Molly instead and the encountered hadn't been exactly a pleasant one.

It had been very awkward and an embarrassment to both as soon as Molly learned who she was. Molly had actually been a bit mad with her at first and that in turn made Etheldrea mad at her. Etheldrea being in her early teens didn't help either; she had been rather horrid. But as they started seeing each other more and more they grew to accept each other's presence and at the very least became colleagues.

At any rate, Etheldrea was happy to know Molly was there for her. She remembered what her dad had told her, how he wanted Molly in his life. She was a valuable person, one of the few she trusted, and Etheldrea had a feeling she would be calling her soon.

* * *

That evening she and John were sitting in the living room while she checked her email and he watched TV. There wasn't much look at, junk mail, bookstore sales, and the occasional fan mail. How they got her email wasn't a mystery, why they tried to contact her was. She always deleted them, not wanting to read through a grammatically incorrect message about them believing in her dad. She appreciated the thought, but every message just reminded her that he was gone and that most of the world thought he was a fraud.

As she clicked the deleted button on them, she stopped at the third to last one. In the time that she had been receiving emails she had of course gotten the occasional case, but without her dad what was the point? He was the detective, she hadn't even been allowed to call herself his assistant. But this one email was interesting.

**Missing Son – Kidnapped – Police Taking Too Long**

Etheldrea debated with herself for several minutes. She didn't know if she could start cases on her own, and she knew John wouldn't help. But, would he go so far as to make her not start cases. And what of she wasn't good enough? She was no match for her dad, and now that she was an officer she had to follow all sorts of legalities that she hadn't before.

"What is it?"

She glanced up and over to John, "Sorry?"

"You're doing that thing with your face. The Should–I–Or–Shouldn't–I face whenever you're about to do something bad. What is it?"

She shook her head, "Nothing."

He looked at her sternly, "_Etheldrea._ Tell me now."

"A woman's son is missing. She wants me to look into it."

"But you won't?"

"I- I don't know. She's already gone to the police, and I'm not sure if I could- if I even have the capability to do this. I mean, I never lead any cases, I'm just a follower."

"But, as an officer, isn't it your duty to help those in need, in and out of uniform?"

"You think I should do it? Take a case?"

"I think you should do whatever your heart tells you to, and all that cliché crap. I can see it in your eyes, you want to."

"Would you come with me?"

"No. I'm sorry, I can't. Not after Sher-"

"It's ok. I understand. Thank you John."

"Of course. Whatever choice you make, I'll stand behind you, always."

Etheldrea smiled, "I appreciate that. By the way, you should ask her out."

"Who?"

"You know who. The woman you work with down at the surgery, what was her name? Carrie?"

"Mary. How did you- never mind."

"You make faces too."

She turned back to the email. One click to delete it, or one click to read it.

_Click._

**To Etheldrea Holmes**

**From Grace Basilwether**

**Please you have to help me! My baby boy Vincent was taken a few hours ago! I contacted the police and thy told me they were looking for him but they haven't found him! Please, I can't go another second without my little boy. Someone broke into his room and took him sometime after he'd come back from school. I've attached a picture, and my address and mobile is below. Call me as soon as you read this.**

Etheldrea clicked the picture and found a young curly blonde teen, no more than sixteen. Much younger than the mother seemed to portray him. It was a school photo, from the looks of the background and attire, and the missing boy didn't look all that impressed to be in it.

There were several questions she had. And the email answered nearly none of them. It wasn't too late to back out though, and she could forget all about this. But, a missing person's case was so tempting. She loved them, well finding the missing person, and it would be so good to get back out there. It would be so different without her dad in the lead, and she wasn't sure she could be the detective this woman wanted.

There was only one way to find out. She took the number and picked up her phone. It picked up after the first ring.

"Ms. Basilwether? My name is Etheldrea Holmes, I'm going to find your son."

* * *

AN: Sorry it's been taking so long for chapters. I've had a lot of assignments due in the past week, and I've got another due next Friday. On the plus side, next week is my last week of school until Winter Break, and then I'll have about a month and a half off. Also, I don't know if I've mention this but each chapter takes place in a different month. The first three were November, the next December, the next January, now we're in February. It's more important to the timeline than the plot, but I just thought I'd mention it.


	7. Chasing the Sun Part 1

**It's a really old city**

**Stuck between the dead and the living**

**So I thought to myself, sitting on a graveyard shelf**

**As the echo of heartbeats, from the ground below my feet**

**Filled a cemetery in the center of Queens**

**I started running the maze of**

**The names and the dates, some older than others**

**The skyscrapers, little tombstone brothers**

**With Manhattan behind her, three million stunning reminders**

**Built a cemetery in the center of Queens**

* * *

Etheldrea had walked through the house of Ms. Basilwether while the distraught women trailed behind her. She had wanted to see Etheldrea as soon as possible, and so Etheldrea went to the address. Grace Basilwether was beside herself, utterly convinced that something terrible had happened to her "baby boy".

The moment Etheldrea did a sweep of the house though, she knew the stolen child actually had run away. The boy's, Vincent, bedroom door had been busted open and the locked mangles but it was done purposely to look like a break in. Then when she took a closer look around the room, she found traces of curly hair leading to a plastic bag under the bed.

Inside the bag was the rest of the curly hair, a box of used black hair dye, and what looked like scraps of denim. Under the bed were also a few rock music CD's, and a white piggy bank. When she pulled it out, the button stopper was missing and any money that might have been in it was missing.

When she told Ms. Basilwether what had happened, she immediately denied it.

"My precious baby boy would never run away! I can't believe you would even suggest such a thing! You're even more useless than the police- where are you going? What about my baby!?"

Etheldrea had walked away from her and slammed the door behind her.

Xxx

The nearest park was bustling, but finding the missing kid was surprisingly easy. One of the problems with running away and hiding is that you spend so much time trying to blend in that you actually stand out. Vincent was sitting on a bench, glancing around at every person that walked by him. She shrugged off her jacket and went to sit down next to him. He glanced at her quickly and then scooted over a bit.

"Running?" she asked as she looked around the station, "I tried that once."

"S- sorry?"

"I tried running away once. Well, sort of. I didn't want to face my dad, but I didn't want to leave home."

"Is my mom here?"

"No. I did tell her I would find you though."

"Are with the police?"

"Well, I work for the police but not on your missing person case. I was personally called in by your mother."

"I'm not missing."

"I know. But she's convinced that you were kidnapped, even when I showed her the proof."

"Yeah, well, she's stubborn like that."

He was continuously looking around, acting like someone was about to pop out at any moment.

"I haven't called the police. Or your mom. In fact, she thinks I walked out of the case."

"Why?"

"I don't really like being called 'useless' even more so when they think I'm more 'useless than the police'."

"Yeah, she can be really . . . intense."

"That's why you ran, isn't it? Your mom was too 'intense', wasn't she?"

He nodded, "She's always telling me what to do, how to act, and I never get a say. I always wanted to be on a sports team, but she's scared I'll get hurt."

"Does she not pay attention, or does she not care?"

"A little of both. She cares more about her opinions than mine. And last week she had this colossal flip out because I was watching a soccer game."

"You had enough. Anywhere was better than home."

"Yeah. Are you going to bring me back?"

"I'm going to try. Obviously I'm not going to drag you back, that'd be embarrassing for both of us."

"Then what are you doing?"

"I'm going to talk with you. Hopefully I can convince you but again, your mother things I left, so if you're going to run I can't stop you and I have no obligation to. Well, as an officer I do but for now let's just be Vincent and Etheldrea. How does that sound?"

"Okay. Why though?"

"Because it's easier."

"No, why did you come find me? How did you find me?"

"I found you because it was the right thing to do. How is pretty easy. You weren't looking for a permanent get away, just some space. You'd be close to home in case something went wrong, but somewhere you wouldn't look out of place. Plus you have to look the part."

"Did you look the part?"

She laughed, "Hardly. I took off a jacket and scarf, and then only used a worn blanket. And, I only used that because a friend insisted I keep warm."

"Why did you run?"

She paused a moment, ". . . I learned my dad told me a lie. I thought he didn't love me. I wanted to get as far away from him as possible, but at the same time I also wanted to confront him. I guess I didn't so much as run as go on a long walk for a few hours."

"Did he find you?"

"Yeah, he did, and we had a fight. I forgave him though."

"Why?"

"Because I realized that he had loved me; that he always had from the moment he saw me."

"What happened to him?"

"He died. Several months ago. It hadn't even been a year since that fight, and barely a few months since we made up."

"I'm sorry. My Uncle died last month. I used to go over to his house a lot and we'd play video games and sports, and he'd let me eat junk food. I miss him."

"I miss my dad too. Everything changes, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. I didn't understand why he died. Why it came back, why it had to be now, and not later. I mean, I'm only sixteen, and he the only one who understood me. He knew what my mom was like, he'd grown up with her. Why did he have to leave? Why couldn't he stay and-

"Keep everything the same, keep everything better. It feels like the sun has disappeared and there's no getting out of the dark."

"You felt like that?"

"Oh yeah. I felt like I would never be over it. I didn't understand why he left either, and nothing made sense in the world."

"Have you moved on?"

"Yes, and no. There are still questions I have, and answers that I think people lied to me about. I think I've gotten over the fact that he's gone, but not how he died."

"How did you move on?"

"I found a letter from him form when I was a little girl. It was a sort of sappy inspirational message, but it really helped. I realized that me moping about the world wasn't what he would have wanted. I had to stop grieving and get on with my life. My dad, your Uncle, they're gone but we're still here. We have the chance to keep going on in their place, keep their legacy alive."

"But my mom-"

"Don't take no for an answer. You're sixteen and she treats you like a child. You deserve so much more. You deserve your life. It's the only one you've got, you might as well do something with it."

"You're right. Will you help me?"

She smiled, "Why else would I be here Vincent?"

"Call me Tewky. My Uncle used to call me that, and it caught on with almost everyone in the family."

* * *

In the end, Etheldrea walked him back to his house. When Ms. Basilwether opened the door and saw her son, she nearly plowed over Etheldrea trying to get to him. She stopped her though, gaining her attention, and explaining that Tewky needed to talk to her and she needed to listen.

Etheldrea had stood there while Tewky talked and his mother actually listened, and while she wished she could say that had reached a solution, Grace Basilwether was still stubborn about him being her little boy. But, that didn't mean she hadn't heard her son out. She had received an email from Tewky: his mother was going to let him try out for a local team. It was a start.

John had been very proud of her, and even Mycroft had been when she told him about it during their next meeting. Well, he didn't say it but Etheldrea knew from the smile he tried to hide.

But, after the excitement of the case was finished, she still had a load of work to do. As April rounded the corner, school was prepping for the final months. Managing the work had been pretty easy before, but now that she was taking up cases managing things was getting harder. The cases weren't anywhere near the level of danger and concentration as several months ago, but it was taking up much of her Saturdays and sometimes her very late evenings.

And that didn't include the work she was doing to clear her dad's name. A few times she'd skip going home after work and would call John to say she was following a lead much to his displeasure. However, she tried to save those cases for the weekends when she had more time. During the week she could get actual rest then, and sometimes she could use her work for resources.

It was during one of her breaks that she was looking over files and phone records for a case in early March a couple years ago. She remembered when an assassin had broken into Baker Street and tried to kill her dad. Sherlock had quickly dispatched with Etheldrea help. But, now she needed to find the evidence that he hadn't set it up.

Lestrade sat with her, helping and talking. As she browsed through a file on the assassin's leader, she found some interesting facts about him and his life. He had been trained to take over for his father, a mob boss, and was currently in prison which was completely unrelated to the case her dad worked. She passed the file over to Lestrade, and he handed her another one. As they read, they both agreed to file them with the strong evidence.

"How many files have we looked through?" Lestrade asked.

"Twenty three."

"How many have left?"

"Three hundred, eight – seven."

"This is going to take a while, isn't it?"

"I suspect at least one year. Three at most."

"Small price to pay to do this."

"It won't matter to him. It's too late for-"

A voice behind them called out, "Holmes, we're leaving."

Etheldrea turned to see Rachel, and then turned back and put together her things. Lestrade stopped her as she started to clean up the stack of files.

"I'll take care of these, you go."

"Thanks."

He nodded and went back to reading, and she hurried to meet up with her partner. They walked without talking down to the car park. Rachel took the wheel of one and they were off.

"What's happening?" she asked Rachel.

"Someone called in about theft near a cemetery. Michaels wanted us to check it out."

"Which one?"

"Dire Grove."

"My dad's buried there." She said softly.

"Mine too." Rachel replied.

After their arrival, the caretaker met them at the gates. Etheldrea had met him once before, during the funeral. He was an older man who lived in a small home towards the back of the grounds. He had worked here for nearly forty years and knew each grave by heart.

He pointed towards a newer grave, "Over there. I saw them with a shovel. They took off the moment I called out to them."

"Did you recognize them?" Etheldrea asked.

"No, ma'am."

"Whose grave was it?"

"Malcom Collie, poor man died of a heart attack a couple weeks ago."

Rachel asked, "Was he buried with anything of value?"

Etheldrea nodded, "Of definitely. Mr. Collie was the owner of a small boutique range. Collie's Couture. I'm sure he would have been buried with more than a few trinkets. Thank you, sir."

She walked over to the grave and looked around, finding the discarded shovel and food prints around the dirt. They hadn't left much behind, and wouldn't be back for a while especially if they knew someone was watching. She circled around and saw more foot prints that walked towards the grave from another.

Etheldrea walked back to caretaker and her partner who was gathering more information on the robbers.

She asked, "When you saw them were they at that grave?"

"Yes. I saw them, called the police, and then went to stop them." He replied.

"Did you look at any other graves?"

"No, no I didn't."

Rachel sighed, "What did you find Holmes?"

"Foot prints leading to the grave. I think they were digging around others. Want to check it out?"

"Why? They're gone."

"If we see what else they were looking at, we might find where they went."

"Fine. Thank you for your time Mr. Gillow."

"Take care girls."

Etheldrea led her over and traced the path as it wound around and around. The tracks led towards a brick wall where she saw marks in the dirt like they had jumped from the top. On the ground was a lighter and a smashed cigarette.

She shook her head and looked up, "I suppose we could get prints and-"

But her partner was gone, standing ten feet back looking at a headstone. Etheldrea walked and stood next to her and read the silver embossed marble.

**Douglas Allen Robinson **

**April 7****th**** 1956 – April 7****th**** 2001**

**Loving father, brother, and husband.**

The seventh had passed a couple weeks ago, and she remembered Rachel hadn't been in. She hadn't questions her, and she hadn't said a word, not that she would.

"I'm sorry." She said.

"He was depressed. Nothing had been going right for him. Fired from his job, taxes piling up, bank was about to foreclose on his house. He just had enough. My brother found him a few hours later."

"I'm sorry."

"You said I had 'daddy issues'. Yeah, I do. I didn't even known him until he died. I didn't even know I had a brother. My entire life it had been my mom and me, and I never knew about him. Then suddenly I've been given a small inheritance from someone who didn't even want me."

Etheldrea didn't know what to say, never imagining she'd find some else who was in a similar predicament as she was. So she tried to connect.

"My mom didn't want me. She was forced to take care of me, and a couple months later, she left me."

"Did you ever meet her?"

"Once. But, she wasn't . . . mother material. Your father must have cared about you though, enough to leave you money."

"I still don't know how to feel about that. I mean, he never tried to contact me. He avoided us for twenty-five years."

"I don't have the answers either. It sucks."

Rachel laughed, "Yeah, it does."

"But, you have your mom. That's what really matters. As long as you have someone."

"Do you have someone, now that your dad's gone?"

"A couple."

Rachel looked around, "Where's your dad? We can go pay respect."

Etheldrea shook her head, "He's towards the west, but I can't yet."

"Alright."

They stood there for a while, reflecting on the world around them and where they were now. Etheldrea was amazed how the world would suddenly become small, and how sometimes she'd miss something. Rachel and she were more alike than she had realized, and maybe just maybe they would learn to work together.

Then the moment was gone, and Rachel brushed her off.

"Come on, let's get back to work."

* * *

Etheldrea was reading a book when John muted the TV and asked for her attention.

He started, "So, over the past few weeks I've been-"

"Dating, I know. I've been waiting for you to tell me. Mary, right?"

"Yes. And we were talking this morning about having lunch sometime. I wondered if you would come."

"Isn't a date for _two_ people?"

"We weren't really thinking of it being a date. I'd like for you two to meet."

"Are you sure? Usually after your dates meet-"

"Yes, I know. But, before we get too involved, I want you two to get to know each other."

"Are you sure?"

"More sure then I've been in a while."

She nodded, "Alright. When?"

"How about the next free Saturday you have?"

"Okay."

"Good."

xxx

**AN: Sorry it's been so long! Last few weeks of college were pretty hectic, plus there were a few family emergencies. I have never had this much drama around Christmas. Also, do you want to know what I missed AGAIN? The two year anniversary of the creation of Etheldrea! Happy Anniversary, and Happy Holidays everyone! Thank you for the continuous follows and favorites and reviews, and for sticking me through this journey. Thank you.**


	8. Chasing the Sun Part 2

**There's a history through her**

**Sent to us as a gift from the future, to show us the proof**

**More than that, it's to dare us to move**

**And to open our eyes and to learn from the sky**

**From a cemetery in the center of Queens**

**You said, remember that life is**

**Not meant to be wasted**

**We can always be chasing the sun!**

**So fill up your lungs and just run**

**But always be chasing the sun!**

**All we can do is try**

**And live like we're still alive**

* * *

"And what do you suppose that has to do with anything?" Mycroft asked as Etheldrea passed him the navy fabric napkin.

"Well obviously they need to pay attention to where their old napkins go. You can't look at yours and mine and see the difference."

"They're both navy to me. What else can you prove?" he tossed it back to her.

She folded it to show the under seem, "Look at the fraying in the stitches. And of course they both look navy to you. You're what now, eight hundred? I'm almost surprised you're not blind."

She was joking of course, but that didn't stop the smug smile on his face, like he knew something she didn't.

"Middle age, my dear niece. It'll be on you sooner than you think."

She rolled her eyes, "Well, I still think that the current carters are going out of business."

"They are. They sent in a notice last week."

"Why didn't you tell me? We would've had to play this game!"

"Because you looked like you needed a distraction."

"From what?"

"You tell me."

She shook her head, "I don't know. It might just be work. I've been doing a lot lately."

"Yes. Not only reports, but cases and research."

She nodded, "I've had quite a few late nights. John hates it."

"He is your doctor after all. Perhaps you should listen to him."

"Sleep is a waste of time. There's too much to do."

"Since when have you hated sleep? For as long as I can remember you couldn't wait until bedtime."

"Yes because bedtime was story time. I'm an adult now, far too old for that."

"Yet you read dozens of them every day."

"You think my cases are bedtime stories."

"Don't tell me you don't sleep easier after each one. It's too bad Dr. Watson doesn't publish yours."

"I asked him not to, and either way I don't think he would have. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course. It's different, isn't it?"

Etheldrea laughed half - heartedly, "I could have told you that months ago. I forget sometimes- no I don't forget I just forget the feeling. It's weird, now . . ."

"Now?"

"Now it's sort of common. I'm almost used to it. I think John is too."

"Speaking of Dr. Watson, you have a meeting coming up soon."

"How do you- never mind. Next week, yeah." She sighed.

"You don't seemed very excited."

"It's not that I'm not, because I am- well I'm sort of not and I kind of am, but the am overpowers the not more than the other way around."

"Sorry?"

"I want John to be happy. And he's happy with her. Happier than I've seen him in a while. If she doesn't like me, I don't want to get in their way."

"I'm sure Dr. Watson wouldn't allow that."

"That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

* * *

On a cork board above her bed, pins, papers, pictures, and strings connected all around. Etheldrea ripped off a note in the left corner and placed it in a folder on her bed. There were three on her bed, one for work, one for cases, and one for her dad. She closed the one for her dad and placed it in her messenger bag, and then did the same for the work folder.

With those two out of the way for the evening, she could focus on the current case. Over the past several weeks, a young man had noticed sums of money disappearing from his businesses account. At first he thought it was just low sales, but after some digging around he found the subtracted money was the same amount every week. He talked to his brother and co-worker about it and after failing to find the people responsible, they had turned to her.

It had started out fairly simple; tracing the thief's computer had been easy. However, she wasn't expecting to find the thief hidden among an entire group of embezzlers. She had helped the brother's find their guy, but there was still an underground organization to catch and with the recent arrest, they were keeping very quiet.

As she flipped through papers, a knock distracted her.

"Come in." she called.

John entered and observer for a moment.

"Still working?"

"Never done." She replied.

"Don't forget to take a break. It's nearly midnight, and you know what's tomorrow."

She nodded, "I know. Don't worry, I'll see you there."

"Alright, good. I'll call you though, just in case."

She smiled and shook her head, "I won't forget!"

He laughed, "Just making sure. Goodnight."

She turned back to her case and replied, "Goodnight."

He left and closed the door, and Etheldrea went back to her focus mode. Reading the information on a log sheet, she stood and turned back to the cork board. She followed one string to an old section of London.

She smiled, "Gotcha."

* * *

"_Etheldrea, where are you?_" John asked.

She turned the corner, listening for the heavy footfalls been her, "I'm on my way, right now. I'll be there in ten minutes."

"_Don't tell me you forgot?"_

"No! Not at all, just held up." She mumbled, "Literally."

"_What was that?"_

"Nothing! I'm nearly there, okay? See you soon!"

She exited the call at the same time she exited the ally and hurried in the direction of the restaurant. Despite their entire organization being shut down and their key members arrested, some of them were not happy with her.

If she could ditch them halfway, she'd be fine, but they were very persistent. Every turn she made, she could hear them behind her and she had to recalculate her route. It wasn't until she was two blocks from the restaurant that she could cause a distraction.

A truck was just backing out of an ally. She paused a moment, letting her pursuers catch up, and then dashed as the truck pulled out and blocked her from their view.

At the restaurants doors, she could see John and a woman she assumed to be Mary standing and waiting. Quickly before she was caught, she met them. She smiled as warmly and she could and held out her hand.

"Hello. Mary, nice to meet you. Let's go in, shall we? Now?"

Mary glanced behind Etheldrea, and quickly took off the silky scarf around her neck. In one quick motion she had wrapped it around Etheldrea's head like a shawl. A moment later a pair of men raced by them, taking no noticed of the trio. Etheldrea watched them out of the corner of her eye until they turned a corner and disappeared.

Sure they were gone, she took of the scarf and handed it back, "Thank you."

"Of course. Shall we go in before they come back?"

"That would be lovely."

John in the time that had passed only stared at them, unable to comprehend what just happened. But he shook his head and opened the door for the girls.

"Glad you could make it." He said as Etheldrea passed.

"Wouldn't miss this for the world."

They sat down and looked over their menus, no one talking until the waiter came to take their drinks. Once he was gone, Etheldrea sat quietly, waiting for someone else to speak. For a moment no one did, and then John went to the bathroom, leaving the girls alone. Mary sat diagonally to her and offered a smile.

"So, Etheldrea. That's a unique name, and very beautiful."

"Thank you."

"John's told me a lot about you. You work for Scotland Yard; how is that?"

"Very exciting. There's always lots to do, and I like to keep busy."

"So you do cases on the side. Which, I assume we just avoided."

"Yes. Sorry about that, by the way. And for being late. I thought they had all been taking care off."

Mary laughed, "It's quite alright. It's not something you get to see every day."

Etheldrea laughed too, "Stay long enough and it just might."

"When you're not chasing criminals, what are you doing? Any hobbies?"

"I like reading, although I haven't had as much time as I used to. Must be one of those adult things. What about you?"

"Why don't you tell me? I hear you're fantastic as describing people."

Etheldrea gulped, "I don't know, my party trick can be a bit unnerving for most people."

"I'm not most people." She replied with a confident tone.

Etheldrea smirked, feeling like she was in front of a challenge, and did a glance over of Mary. She was a beautiful women, blonde and bright eyed. She sat casually, comfortable with her surroundings and her company, but would shift now and then. She had been wearing a bright red coat which she kept draped around her chair, and had kept on the scarf she had lent to Etheldrea.

"For starters, you bake, often."

"How'd you know?"

"I could smell it from your scarf. Past the perfume, lovely also, I can smell bread and hints of chocolate. You could stop in a bakery every day, but the chances of that are less likely considering the texture of your hands. You have scaring, not noticeable unless someone is incredibly observant."

Mary grinned, "What else?"

"You own a cat. Possibly a chartreux or a shorthair. It's hard to tell from this distance, but you have fur on your coat and shirt. Speaking of, you have a tattoo, somewhere on your lower back I assume. You placed your coat around your chair instead of on the seat next to you and you sit back now than when someone walks past like they could see it. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me."

"Is that all?"

"Oh far from it. You hold the menu closer than normal; you're short sighted although it's not a big issue. Not enough to need glasses or contacts. I'm a bit far sighted myself. It's pretty easy to get away with, isn't it? Also, you're a linguist."

She scoffed, "How can you possibly know that?"

Etheldrea smirked, "Your voice tone and pitch. It changes now and then. What else do you speak?"

"French."

Etheldrea thought that was unusual, only French. Listening to Mary, she thought she could hear another language but she wasn't sure.

She asked, "Vraiment? Comment couramment?"

"Avec le temps je ai oublié, mais je peux encore tenir une conversation. Que pouvez-vous parler?"

"Français, évidemment, Italien, et je tremper en espagnol et en arabe."

"Ce est incroyable, où avez-vous appris tout cela?"

Etheldrea shrugged, "Je me ennuyais, il ya quelques étés. Il n'y avait pas des cas ou quelque chose, alors je suis allé à la bibliothèque."

"Vous vous appris?"

"Oui. Ce était juste un moyen de perdre un jour."

"Déchets un jour? Ce est -"

At that moment John came back and the girls looked up at him. As he sat down Mary asked,

"Did you know Etheldrea taught herself four languages in a day?"

John looked proud but unsurprised, "I didn't. Amazing isn't it?"

Etheldrea shook her head, "Well, it was just the Italian and Arabic. I learned Spanish in school, and I've grown up learning French. My grandparents live in France."

Mary said, "Even better. It took me years to learn. But now, we can have secret conversations."

"Est fantastique que sonore."

"Il va être tellement perdu, il ne sera pas."

She laughed, "Oui, regardez John maintenant."

John looked utterly confused, "Sorry, what was that?"

Mary and Etheldrea locked eyes and smiled, "This is going to be fun."

* * *

Etheldrea opened the door and walked in as quietly as possible. It was almost two in the morning, and John was probably asleep. She had some unfished business after lunch, and it took much longer than she expected. But the day had gone exceptional in her mind.

Mary was . . . interesting. Throughout lunch there had been something about her that Etheldrea was cautious of, but whenever she saw John look at her she'd forget about. John deserved to be happy. And besides, she really liked Mary. She was the first of John's girlfriends who was genuinely interested in getting to know her.

And she was clever. Very clever and witty, and Etheldrea felt like she could be herself around her. Many times during school, work, and sometimes cases, she had to watch how much she revealed about someone and what she said in general. But, like Abigail, around Mary she felt more relaxed.

"It's about time." John said as he walked into the living room.

Both sat down on the couch.

She smiled sheepishly, "Sorry. People don't like it when you ruin their criminal organizations. The police like it even less when you do it without orders. Imagine that."

"You're not in trouble, are you?"

"No, no, it's all taken care of."

"Good. Did you, uh, did you have a good time today?"

Etheldrea nodded, "Yeah. It was fun. Mary's nice."

"You like her then?"

"Yes, very much so."

John smiled, "She likes you too."

"Really? That's a first."

He laughed, "Well, I'm glad you like each other. Because there's something I want to talk to you about. I know, it's pretty soon, and it probably won't be for a while yet, a long while, but-"

"You want to propose already?"

"No! Oh, god no, not yet. We've only been dating a couple months. I want to ask her to move in with us. What do you think?"

Etheldrea paused. _Us_. He said us. He was including her. She knew that at some point he'd ask Mary to move in, but she thought when that happened she would move out. Not once had she considered that John would _want_ her company, at least not if he had another friend with him.

"I'd like that."

* * *

**AN: I know it's kind of short, but we still have several chapters of Mary and Etheldrea interactions, plus a character will be reintroduced soon and I'm really excited! The French is from google translate, so there might be mistakes. Sorry! Here's roughly what it said:**

**Really? How fluent?**

**Over time I've forgotten some, but I can still hold a conversation. What can you speak?**

**French, obviously, Italian, and I dabble in Spanish and Arabic.**

**That's amazing, where did you learn all that?**

**I was bored a few summers ago. There weren't any cases or anything, so I went to the library.**

**You taught yourself?**

**Yes. It was just a way to waste a day.**

**Waste a day? That's-**

**And also: **

**That sound's fantastic.**

**He'll be so lost, won't he?**

**Yes, look at John now.**


	9. Satellite Call

**This is a HUGE chapter, one that I think you guys really deserve after having waited so long.**

**.**

**This is so you'll know the sound**

**Of someone who loves you from the ground**

**Tonight you're not alone at all**

**This is me sending out my satellite call**

* * *

May was nearly over, and that meant so was school. The burden of school work was finally off her shoulders and with it, more time for cases, and more time to relax. She joined work full time, but it still allowed her a good balance. Life was great. For a while.

Etheldrea didn't work on Friday's or Saturday and when she had been working part time she often had a few times where she was sent home early. So when her phone went off Friday morning, very early Friday morning, to call her in she was worried.

She dressed quickly, pulling on a long sleeved white blouse and jeans. She'd change into her uniform at work like always, although she hoped she'd have the time. As she walked out her door, she grabbed a couple bobby pins and pinned her hair back.

John was just getting up, making tea and rubbing his eyes. The TV played in the background, a crying man and woman.

"_Please, if you have her-"_

Tuning it out, he watched her dash into the bathroom where she brushed her teeth in record time and then hurried to put on her shoes.

"I've been called in today." She said as he watch her, confused, "I'm not sure why. Robinson said to get there quickly."

John said sleepily, "Alright. Maybe today's your day, a big case. Stay safe. Love you."

She had been at the door when she stopped and turned to him, looking puzzled. He blinked, realized what he said and then shook his head.

"Sorry. That was weird. Wasn't it? That was weird."

She smiled, walked up to him, and kissed his cheek, "I love you too."

Then she was out the door and on her way.

* * *

The moment she walked into Scotland Yard, she knew something big was going on. People were rushing everywhere, multiple on phone, others aggressively typing on their computers. As luck would have it, Sally Donovan passed by and saw.

She gestured to follow her and said, "Board room, now."

Etheldrea nodded and walked after her. A few doors down the hall, most of the Investigative teams on the floor were gathered. She saw Lestrade, and Michaels, and then Robinson was pulling her arm over to a group of other constables.

"You're just in time."

"What's going on?" Etheldrea asked.

"There's been a kidnapping. Larson's case, but they've only just found out it's connected to a few others that's happen in the past three months."

"Really? Are we part of the case too?"

"Not really, Collins told me we're supposed to be doing our regular jobs today and that it might take a while. Depending on how the case goes, they might call for us to be at the scene or do damage control."

Etheldrea nodded, "Great. What are we doing here then?"

"They haven't released the girl's information yet, but pay attention, they're about to."

Etheldrea looked to the front of the room where Larson himself was standing and calling for everyone's attention. On a board behind him were pictures of someone's house, and a young girl's school photo. Pale skin with freckles, big brown eyes, and strawberry blonde hair.

He pointed towards that picture, "This is Lauren Delilah, age eleven. She was last seen walking to school when an unlicensed car picked her up. It is believed that she knew this person, or that she believed her family knew this person as video shows she wasn't forced in. All attempts to trace the car are still being looked at, but so far have been inconclusive. The suspect is completely unknown at this point, and while several witnesses have come forward there has been no clear description."

Etheldrea muttered to herself, "So we're basically looking for a ghost."

"In six hours, unless no major developments have happened, I want everyone back here for another meeting. By then we hope to know more about suspect."

Everyone began to clear the room and Etheldrea followed Rachel to the lockers. As she usually did, she ignored the other girls around her and thought about the following day. If she could just get in on the case, she could help find the girl faster.

A locker slammed shut next to her, "Stop it."

She looked up at the speaker, Rachel, who was glaring at her fiercely.

"Sorry?"

"Don't even think about it. You are not getting involved."

"Who said I was?"

"Your face."

"I'm not an open book."

"You really are. Now stop thinking and start working."

Etheldrea shook her head, "I _am_ working. Do you know the statistics? Seventy-four percent of abduction cases have a tragic end. This child's stats are only going up. Average age for girls? Eleven and Twelve. Now if this is the same abductor of those other girls, we're even higher and remember he killed those girls. Ninety-nine percent of abducted children who are killed die within the first twenty four hours, seventy – five in the first three, and forty four in the first hour. That sounds bad, but if we follow the theory of the same abductor, evidence has found that those girls were killed after two days. I could find her, if they just let me-"

"NO!"

Rachel winced and looked around, and then leaned in closer to her. She whispered, "No, absolutely not. That is the worst possible thing you can do and no one would let you to begin with. Can you not comprehend the amount of shit we went through after your father's death? How much we are still going through? Imagine what would happen if this time it was you? You would lose your job, and probably so would everyone on this team and the team that allows you to work on this. We are guards at most today, we will not be doing any investigation what so ever. Do you understand?"

Etheldrea spoke through clenched teeth, "You want me to stand around and wait while an innocent girl is killed?"

"No, I'm saying that this is not your job. You are not part of Larson's team, and you will not be the one to find her. He will. You've been working here both employed and unemployed for years, do you really doubt us that much?"

Etheldrea frowned, thinking. She had been working here nearly five months and had become more social with the other members of the Yard. She remembered the regular officers she had seen when her dad was around, and his influence on her had been none too kind. But after working with them, meeting others and actually trying to work on being a team member, she had learned a few things and grown up a bit more.

She said, "No. Not as much as I used to."

Rachel smiled, a real, honest to god smile that Etheldrea didn't know she was capable of.

"Good. Now let's go, we're taking too much time as it is."

They left the lockers and reported to Sargent Collins who was telling everyone where to go. The two girls were to follow their regular routine, walking around London and stopping fights and helping anyone they needed to. And they were nearly out the door, but then Michaels walked up and stopped them.

"There's been an incident and we need more officers to guard the scene. Robinson, Holmes, you're joining me." He told them.

"What's happened?" Robinson asked.

He leaned in close to them and whispered, "We're not letting this out just yet, we need time to prepare, alright. Lauren's parents have been killed."

* * *

Etheldrea tried following Larson onto the scene, but Rachel grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

"We talked about this, remember?" she hissed.

Etheldrea growled back, "Yes, but that doesn't mean I can't help."

"You're helping by keeping civilians away from the scene. Come on."

With a silent groan and last glance towards the front door, she walked with Rachel to the front of the yellow tape. They, along with a couple other officers, pushed people along who tried to stare too long and reporters who tried to get in on the action. That was their job for now, and it went smoothly. Until Etheldrea recognized a face.

A woman and reporter, with short red hair and ice cold eyes. A mole was prominent just near the corner of her mouth. Etheldrea hadn't met her in person, but her father had. She was responsible for the frame work the media had done on Sherlock. Kitty Riley.

Etheldrea walked towards Rachel, keeping her head down.

"The woman with the red hair, get her as far away from here as you can."

"Why?"

"She's the one who began the smear campaign against my dad. If she recognizes me, how do you think this will play out?"

Rachel nodded, "Go talk to Michaels for a bit, she'll be gone in no time."

Etheldrea turned her back and walked towards her boss. He was talking with Larson but as luck would have it, he walked away and back into the scene leaving Michaels alone. He saw her approach and motioned her closer.

"Holmes, walk with me for a moment."

"Sorry to bother you sir-"

"No, you're just the person I needed to see. Is there something _you_ need?"

"Just a moment for Rachel to distract a reporter. It would be best if she didn't see me."

"Alright, good. Stop here."

He stopped her and faced her towards him. They were a few feet from the missing girl's house, just in front of the doorway. Etheldrea almost dared to look behind him, just to see a glimpses of a glance of the scene. But she didn't.

He looked her in the eye, and asked quietly, "What I'm about to do is strictly forbidden, so we best keep this our secret, understood? What do you see?"

She asked, bewildered, "Sir?"

"The scene, the parent's, what do you see? I can't get you in closer, but anything you can tell me would fantastic. I've been talking with Larson, and we're nowhere near catching this bastard. HE knows we're on to him, and Lauren's chances are sliming. Can you tell me anything about this guy?"

Etheldrea looked past him, towards the scene. She could see just past the front door that lead to the living room. There was a body on the ground partially blocked by a wall. There was a dark puddle, blood, surrounding it. IT was the dad, but that was all she could see. She _needed_ to be closer, to examine.

She shook her head, "I'm sorry, I can't."

"What about this. They found the dad just before he died. His last words were 'She doesn't love. You know.' Do you know what he could have meant?"

She shook her head again, "I'm sorry, I don't have enough information."

"I understand. If I could get you in closer I would."

Etheldrea nodded and started to turn back, but then she had an idea. She grabbed Michaels attention again.

"When are they bringing the bodies for a coroner's report?"

"Not for a while."

"Could you get them to a specific mortuary?"

"Perhaps." He crossed his arms, "What are you thinking?"

She smirked, "I have a friend who I think could help. If you can get them to her, leave the rest to me. If I'm caught, you'll have no trouble on your hands, it'll all be on mine."

"I'm not going to let you jeopardize your position, Holmes."

"And I'm not going to let this little girl die. She's lost her parent's, she doesn't need to lose her life."

Michaels sighed, "Who is she?"

"Molly Hooper at St. Bartholomew. She used to help us, a lot."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, sir."

She was about to go back to her job but another thought flashed through her mind.

"Inspector, why are you doing this? Why do you believe in me?"

He looked around, observing everyone who was working and then turned back to her with a smile.

"More people believe in you than you think, though you might not see it today."

She smiled back, "Thank you, sir."

* * *

Etheldrea was standing, watching people go by and officers rush around. They were preparing to bring the bodies away. She glanced towards the house and caught Inspector Michaels eye. He simply nodded and then turned back to his work. Everyone was preparing to head back to the Yard. A recap meeting was going to happen, and then it would be back their regular duties while the search continued.

However Etheldrea wouldn't be doing that. She knew exactly what she was about to do held great consequences, and when she got caught she wore more than likely be fired, jailed, or something else equally terrible. But when she helped catch the criminal, it would be worth it. So she made sure no one was watching her and walked to the main road. If someone saw her, they assumed she was going to help take down road blocks, after all they did just call for some help.

Once she was out of sight, she hailed a cab and rode to St Bart's. As confidently as she could, she walked to the mortuary. She had to seem like she belonged there otherwise someone would question her. She didn't walk in just yet, she could hear other voices inside. There was a plant by the door, perfectly hiding a chair for her to sit.

It wasn't long before she watched a couple officers leave, never noticing her. As soon as they were gone she stood and walked into the morgue, now empty except for Molly. She didn't notice her either and was about to put the bodies away.

"Wait." Etheldrea called, startling her.

Molly turned around, eyes wide and a hand on her heart. She recognized Etheldrea quickly and calmed down.

"What are you doing here?"

"I need to look at the Delilah's."

Molly hesitated, "I'm not sure-"

"I know. But this is important. If I can't figure out why this guy went after the parents. Please Molly, I need your help. A little girl has lost her parents, I can't let her lose her life."

The pathologist looked defeated, having been through this hundreds of times already. She took a step back and gesture towards the bodies, letting her look them over.

Etheldrea smiled, "Thank you. What did you find?"

"The woman died quickly, puncture to the right coronary artery. She was dead before she hit the ground. The man though, he took much longer. He died of blood loss."

Etheldrea hovered over the man, taking note of bruises along the wrists and palms. His fingers were bend at an odd angle. There was also bruising along the throat.

Etheldrea frowned, "He was tortured. No more than a few minutes, but he made sure it hurt. He was in and out before anyone even knew. Why though? He already has their daughter, why would he kill the parents?"

"I don't know, but the dad put up a bit of a fight."

"I can see that. Do you know what type of knife was used?"

She shook her head, "It's too soon. I would need more time to look. It's not a kitchen knife though, and I don't think it's any common household knife."

Etheldrea looked at the wound and nodded, "I'm sure it's a hunter's type. He wanted it to hurt, he went there with the intent, and he had no reason to. Why would he? What does he gain?"

_Please, if you have her- She doesn't love. You know._

"He loves with her." Etheldrea realized.

"Who loves who?"

"The killer, he loves her, he loves all of them He thinks he deserves them and he'll stop at nothing to make sure people know that. The Delilah's are the only who made an appeal, but it's only because of the connected cases. Considering the damage he did to the father and not the mother, he felt he was the most threatening. He probably seems himself as a father figure, but if they resist him he kills them. He's impulsive, dangerous, and probably has a criminal record. He's known, that's what the father meant, we know who he is. If I can just narrow it down- Molly you have been an incredible help."

Etheldrea rushed out the door barely hearing Molly's goodbye and hurried to get back to Scotland Yard. With luck on her side, no one notice when she walked in or that she had even been gone. She walked quickly to the records room, passing by Robinson as she did. The older woman saw her and followed after her, shutting the door to the records room closed behind her.

"Where the hell were you? And why the hell is Michaels covering your ass? What the hell did I tell you? Don't get involved! Do you have any idea-"

"I found him." She didn't look at her, already rummaging through files.

"What?"

"Or, I will. I just need to find and narrow down some of the suspects."

"What the hell, what the hell, what the bloody hell! I told you- Do you have any idea, do you know what you have done? We are all screwed, and it's all your fault."

Etheldrea turned to her, a file in her hand, "I found him."

Rachel glared at her, "_What?"_

"I found him." She held it out to her, "Here, bring this is Michaels. He can give it to Larson, and I won't be involved if it's so important to you."

"How do you know?"

Etheldrea shook her head, "It doesn't matter-"

"How. Do. You. Know?"

Etheldrea huffed, "It's a gift. I know things, I remember things, unimportant things that usually turn out to be important. The man in this file, he's been arrested around each time there's been a kidnapping- he's been making himself known so that we wouldn't suspect him. If we think he's keeping a low profile, why would we even think to look for him? He fits everything so far, character wise, personality wise, everything."

She repeated everything she had learned from the morgue and was surprised to find Rachel looked a bit impressed.

"You remembered him? A constant misdemeanor guy? And you connected him to this?"

"Everything is right here, we have him, now we need to catch him. Give this to Larson or Michaels. Say it was an anonymous tip. Whatever you feel is the right thing to do. _Please."_

Rachel sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, "I can't believe this." Then she held out her hand and took the file.

She glanced at it and then at Etheldrea, "You better be right Holmes."

Etheldrea watched her leave the room, and then smiled. A sense of accomplishment burst from her chest, and she felt the frustration of the day and of the past eleven months bubble away. The tiny thoughts that had always tried eating her, telling her she would never be like her dad, the thought that she would never be accepted here like he was, that she would never have anyone believe in her, was gone. And it felt good.

* * *

After Rachel delivered the file, Etheldrea had gone to write a report (lying just a bit on the last hour of her time) and tried not to seem so relaxed. A bit later, Michaels had passed by her and offered a small smile, letting her know that her actions was still and would be kept secret.

Then Rachel had come back and motioned her to follow. The break room wasn't filled, but there were still a lot of people there. They sat for a bit in silence, watching as Larson's team ran past, obviously ready to find their guy and the girl. Etheldrea smiled to herself as they did.

"I'm sorry." Rachel said, quietly so no one else would listen in, "For the yelling, and overall bitchy behavior."

"It's fine, I'm used to it."

Rachel rolled her eyes, "I'm serious. I just didn't want to lose my job. This is all I have. I grew up a couple hours from here in the shadiest neighborhood you'd ever seen. I saw a lot happen to people I cared about, friends and family. No one ever did anything about it, and growing up I promised myself and my mom that I would be the one who did. Getting a job here was the best thing that ever happened to me, and if I lost it, I don't know what I would do."

Etheldrea agreed, "Neither do I. I am sorry the mess that was caused, and I'm sorry you almost lost your job. But I'm not sorry that my dad helped on those cases, because that is exactly what he did. He helped. And that's why I'm here now."

Rachel stood up, "Good. But please, the next time you try to do something like this, let everyone be involved. Don't keep this to yourself. We are a team."

Etheldrea nodded, but bit her tongue, and watched Rachel leave. Growing up, she and her dad had always been a team. It had always been just them, before the lies and Moriarty and even John. They were a team when no one else she knew wanted her to be on one. When she had joined the Yard she knew immediately no one wanted her to be on the team, and even when Michaels said she was part of the team it was still them against her. But now, one of the people who had hated her the most was accepting her.

Today was definitely her day.

* * *

She waited and worked, and waited and worked some more. John had called her and she happily told him about the day. Lestrade had come down and talked with her for a while, and he had figured out she had something to do with the case. He had always been a bit smarter than her dad gave credit. Then she waited and worked some more.

She wanted to be there when Larson and his team came back, wanted to see to celebrating that would happen, even if she wasn't one for parties. But as the time passed by, no one came back. The afternoon slowly turned to the night, and soon she was one of ten people left on the floor. Even Sargent Collins had left hours ago.

Etheldrea was worried. It should not have taken this much time to find her and bring her back. No way. When she had been kidnapped a few years ago, she was found and brought back to the Yard within an hour, so where the hell was Larson.

When midnight hit, Michaels walked into the room and saw her sitting at a desk, pretending to revise her files for the hundredth time. He called to her and told her to come to his office. The worry that she had been feeling only intensified. In his office she took a seat.

"Did they not find her?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head, "They found her. But, it was too late."

Etheldrea felt everything grow cold. How had this happened? It had been early, she had found the file before anyone else would have even guessed. She had him!

"And the criminal was gone."

This made her heart stop. Gone, no trace? How, how, how? Why? What happened, what changed? Oh god, what if it had been her? What if she had messed up somehow? This was all her fault.

She stood up, "May I leave?"

"Yes. . . Holmes, you didn't do anything wrong."

"Let her be the judge of that."

She turned and walked out. The world seemed to dim, the noise almost none existent. She didn't remember walking to the lockers but here she was, changing out of her uniform and then leaving. Before she got to the doors she heard a muffle sound behind her and then a hand clamp on her shoulder.

"Etheldrea, wait."

She glanced behind her to see Lestrade, but she didn't stop to talk. She just brushed his hand away and continued walking. She intended to keep walking, but a black car pulled up a few blocks down and a door opened for her. She was tempted to just leave it, but her mind was made for her and a man, Lazlo or Patrick or whatever his name was, came and guided her in.

He didn't try to speak to her, didn't offer any message form her Uncle, and she didn't try to figure out if there was one. The outside passed by, the London nightlife was blossoming and drunkards and clubbers walked around having the time of their lives. The sharp contrast made her angry and she wanted to shout at them, scream that while they were happy an entire family had been ripped apart. But she didn't, just stared out the window feeling like all her energy was gone.

The car stopped outside her and John's flat, and she dragged herself to the door. She was about to grab her keys but the door opened for her and John stood there, watching her like a concerned parent. He beckoned her in and to the couch.

"Lestrade called me, he told me what happened. I'm sorry."

She shook her head, "They know who the guy is, and technically she was found."

"Don't. Don't do that. The whole brushing it off like it doesn't affect you-"

"It doesn't."

"It _does_. You know it does, and I know it. You aren't your dad so please stop trying to be. It's tearing you apart."

Etheldrea didn't look at him, "I can be though, I have to be. If I'm not, then I'm going to lose him and I can't. I don't want- I thought-"

A sob sprung from her throat and she covered her face. John wrapped his arms around her, holding her until she could speak again. When she did, she kept hold on his sweater, feeling like a little kid again.

"I thought I could be like him. I thought I had moved on, I really did, but I also thought if I could handle things like he I could be better. I'm scared, John. I don't want to lose him."

"I know, but you have to let go. It's time. And I'm right here with you, alright? We'll get through this together."

"Don't leave me."

"I won't. Never, not once. I promise."

* * *

**This one's for the lonely child**

**Brokenhearted, running wild**

**This was written for the one to blame**

**One who believe they are the cause of chaos and everything**

**You may find yourself in the dead of night**

**Lost somewhere up in the great big beautiful sky**

**You were all just perfect little satellites**

**Spinning round and round this broken earthly life**

**This is so you'll know the sound**

**Of someone who loves you from the ground**

**Tonight you're not alone at all**

**This is me sending out my satellite call**

**AN: I'm so, so, so terribly sorry! I thought with earlier class hours I'd have more time to write, but I didn't anticipate how much work my classes would be. I wish I could handle everything better, and I'm sorry that this story has been on hold for so long. I hope you all can forgive me.**


	10. Parking Lot

**I don't have it yet a good sense of knowing when**

**What I do should be immediate**

**But all this waiting for a sign**

**From the other side**

**For fuck's sake this is just a timeline**

* * *

The next morning, John thanked god Etheldrea did not have work. After she had come home, exhausted and heartbroken, he comforted her the best that he could. But she was still feeling the guilt from the loss of the girl, and hadn't moved from under the cover of her bed all morning.

When he went to grab the paper that morning, he was surprised to see a bouquet of flowers in a beautiful purple vase lying with it. He picked them up and brought them to Etheldrea's room, placing on the end table near her bed. Then he sat down next to her and pulled the blankets back.

"You have an admirer." He said softly, nodding towards the flowers.

She glanced towards them, "From who?"

He shook his head, "Didn't say. There's no note."

"Yes there is."

She turned on her back and sat up, reaching for the vase and began pointing out the different flowers. Every flower had a meaning, a useful lesson she learned from her grandmother.

"These purple – pinkish ones are Azaleas. They mean 'take of yourself for me'. The carnations are striped and they roughly mean 'I'm sorry I can't be with you'. White roses often have multiple meanings, but judging by the other flowers and the fact that there are six roses, it means 'I miss you'. You're sure there wasn't a note?"

"No, just the flowers. Who do you think sent them?"

"No idea. The only people who've sent me flower messages are my grandmother and- dad." She placed the flowers back on the table, "Grandmother, of course. Mycroft must've been watching me yesterday and talked to her. That's surprising."

John stood up, "I'm going to make breakfast; you'll eat."

"Later." She replied as she pulled the blanket back over her head.

He frowned, but he knew he wouldn't let her get away with it that easy. So he hummed and began to leave her room, pulling out the newspaper as he did. The headline made him pause and he turned back to the bed.

"Etheldrea, you might want to see this."

She poked her head out and took the paper from him.

**Child Abductor and Murderer Captured. Says Mysterious Vigilante Beat Him.**

Etheldrea read through the article, shocked, relieved, and confused at the same time. After an anonymous tip, the killer had been found in an ally, beaten bloody enough to need medical attention. He didn't know who it was, didn't even see a face. No cameras had caught him.

She handed the paper back to John, who left, and reached for her phone. Etheldrea was originally going to email as usual, but decided a call would be nicer and probably more polite. It had been a while since she had actually heard her grandparents, almost a year. Scrolling through the contacts, she dialed called her grandmother. After a few rings, she picked up.

"_Etheldrea!"_ her grandmother gushed, _"My little Flower! How are you?"_

"Better. I wanted to thank you for the flowers."

"_What flowers, dear?"_

Etheldrea glanced at the bouquet, confused she asked, "Really? Uncle Mycroft didn't call you?"

"_No. What's happened? What's wrong?"_ she could hear her grandmother start to become frantic.

"Um . . . nothing you need to worry about. Just some work things. Are you _sure_ it wasn't you? Maybe granddad?"

"_Sorry dear, we didn't send any flowers. It must have been your Uncle. He's always looking out for you, you know. I know it doesn't seem like it, but he really does. Oh speaking of him, tell Mikey to call me. I've been trying all week."_

Still looking at the bouquet, she replied, "Yeah, sure. I've got to go. I'll talk to you soon. Tell granddad hi."

"_I will. We love you! Have a great day!"_

"You to." Etheldrea hung up and grabbed the bouquet.

She looked over every surface, every stem and petal for a note, a finger print, anything. Mycroft couldn't care less about these things, and he had no reason to send a message like these. He saw her every other Saturday. Who else would send her flowers? It had to be staring her in the face.

Giving up, she started to crawl back under her blanket but she stopped. What was she doing? Hiding away while someone braver than her did what she should be doing? She had the means to, the determination, and not that she felt any scorn towards the vigilante, she could also be doing the same as he was. Saving people, helping them feel safer, that was her passion and right now she moping about.

Throwing back the covers, she got dressed in a worn pair of jeans and white blouse, and then pinned her hair back. From her book shelf she grabbed several files and left her room, ready for whatever was to thrown at her.

* * *

As May went on, John noted that she seemed less stressed, and for the first time in weeks was coming home after work, saving her cases for the mornings. He would never admit it, but he hated the late nights. He worried about her, constantly, and those nights were the worst. He knew what she was doing, when he called her every afternoon she'd talk about them. But he still thought about her birthday, about how reckless she'd been, how much danger she'd been in, how he almost lost her so soon after her father.

However, just because she's wasn't going to them at night didn't mean she wasn't working. Some nights he would go to bed, leaving her still up and sorting through files and information or filling out page after page of reports. The next morning he would find her still asleep on the couch if not awake and still working, a noticeable black shade under her eyes. For a while he had thought whenever she went to her room she was going to bed, but that turned out to be a little trick so he wouldn't suspect. He wanted to make her stop, but how could he? She was an adult, it wasn't like he could order her to.

Etheldrea knew he worried, and tried to comfort him. She'd text him whenever she was out later than expected or staying at the office during some long paper work. He always called at noon when he was on his break, and she enjoyed talking with him. She knew he would worry about her riskier cases, and maybe it didn't help calm him as much as she wanted, but she would omit certain parts like if she was in a bad neighborhood or if she was hiding from pursuers. She didn't need any more repeats after lunch with Mary.

Speaking of her, Etheldrea met her a few more times. Mary would be over for dinner, or had dropped John off after work, and sometimes stayed the night. She was really lovely, always happy to see her and she was a great adviser and conversationalist. Whenever she was working on something and Mary was there she would help her out by pointing out connections that she hadn't seen yet, and often led to a quick closed case.

In fact, Mary had just helped her finish file, connecting a drug lord with several robberies. It was the only one she had for the day and all that was left to do was hand over the information (and the information on herself including her whereabouts, interactions, and alibies) to Sargent Collins and everything would be taken care of. She would do that when she got to work though. For now, she and Mary were sitting in the living room while John finished getting ready for work.

"Why do you need to have an alibi?" Mary asked.

Etheldrea replied, "To prove I haven't done any crimes and that I have no connections to the cases. Collins mostly handles the rougher parts, the explaining mostly, and if I handle over my information then the Yard will actually do something about the cases."

"Every case?"

"No, not all. Just the ones that require more authority that I have."

Mary nodded, "I see. So now what are your plans?"

Etheldrea pulled out her phone, "Find another case."

"Are you sure? You should take a day off."

"I have Fridays and Saturdays off."

"They don't count."

John walked into the room and sat down by Mary, "She's right you know."

Etheldrea shook her head, "They never end, you guys."

"We know, but just for right now. Preferably for another five plus minutes."

As soon as he said that, there was a knock at the door. With a smile, John quickly went to get it. Etheldrea internally groaned, not sure if she was ready for John's surprise. But when she saw who was at the door, she couldn't help but feel grateful.

Abigail Grey, happy as ever, walked into the room. When she saw Etheldrea, she squealed and rushed for a hug. Etheldrea stood up and hugged her back. It had been months since they had seen each other, Etheldrea had work at night, and Abigail had school during the day.

Abby was the first to pull back and began to chatter excitedly.

"I can't believe it's taken us this long! Can you? Oh my god, I've missed you so much!"

Etheldrea grinned, "Me too. I'm going to assume you have a plan?"

"Of course. You're getting out of the house today, and you can't complain."

Etheldrea turned and gave a half glare to John and then turned back, "Just this once."

She put on her shoes, and told John and Mary goodbye. When the door closed and the girls were gone, Mary had a small smile on her face.

"So that's Abigail." She said, "I don't mean this in a bad way, but how did _they_ become friends?"

John shook his head, "From what I know, Abigail wouldn't leave her alone, and Etheldrea found someone who wasn't a bully. They've been friends since the day I met her."

* * *

Abigail didn't have a destination in mind. The girls just walked and talked, catching up after so many months apart. Abigail walked almost quickly with a little bounce in her step, while Etheldrea kept a calm pace.

"So, John tells me you've been working your butt off. How's being a big fancy police constable working for you?"

"Fine. Great. It's not better than I expected, it's different, but it's a good different."

"Really? How so?"

"This might surprise you, but a couple years ago I had a huge ego. Especially around people I hated."

"Had?"

Etheldrea pushed her arm playfully, "Shut up. Anyway, I thought I'd get into the Yard absolutely no problem. That I'd advance faster than most people, that I'd get on Lestrade's team, that I'd be a- a hero."

Etheldrea shook her head, "God, I _expected_ that to happen. How stupid is that?"

Abigail shrugged, "It was a dream. There's nothing stupid about that. What changed?"

"Everything. My dad died, I nearly died, I joined the Yard. I realized that there are a lot more people suited to this job than me. I don't know what John's told you, but I've witnessed a lot more than I thought I could handle."

Abigail bit her lip, "He's worried about you, you know. He thinks you might . . . revert."

"Why is this always a problem?" she asked defensively, "Maybe it's a good thing, sometimes."

"Not now. If you're hurting yourself-"

"I'm not. . . . Its other people- but I can handle them."

"I'm not saying you can't but purposely looking for fights isn't a good thing."

"I'm not purposefully looking for a fight, it's just a consequence of stopping criminals."

"But you're not a vigilante."

"No, but I am an off duty officer and it is my job to stop crime not matter what. Can we not talk about this now?"

Abigail looked like she wanted to continue, but she relented for the time being. They were silent for a little while until Etheldrea led them over to a park bench.

Etheldrea asked, "So how's Roland?"

Abigail perked up, "He's amazing! In between classes we have lunch together, and sometimes he brings me coffee in the mornings, and we have date nights every Friday. Also study dates, there's a lot of those. There's been a lot more paper work this semester then I was expecting. But he makes it so much easier, and he's always surprising me. He doesn't bring me flowers, I'm not sure if I really want flowers anymore, but he brings me chocolate and notebooks and key chains! Oh my god, he collects keychains and he has some of the coolest ever! He's just so- so lovely."

Etheldrea wrinkled her nose, "That sounds horrid."

"It sounds _romantic_, and you know what else? He has a brother. Daniel's his name. He's at Oxford and he's studying Archeology. He's like, super smart. I think you'd like him."

"No. And please don't tell me you've set up a blind date."

"I haven't, but I thought just maybe."

"No, thank you."

"Are you sure? Cause you know, girls our age are supposed to be out getting drunk at parties and hooking up and-"

"You aren't doing any of those things."

"Yeah, well, we're both classy ladies."

Etheldrea laughed, "Is that what you think of me? You, sure, but me?"

"Alright fine, you're more adventurous I'd say. Maybe that's why you keep getting into trouble all the time."

"Oh, seriously? Again? I thought we agreed to stop talking about this."

"No, you agreed to stop talking about it at the time. I sort of went with it. But seriously, we are worried about you. John says you're spending too much time on these cases then you are on yourself. Look at you! You look like you haven't slept in weeks, and you're thinner than the last time I saw you, and that's saying something because you were pretty thin then too."

Etheldrea turned away from her, "You don't know what you're talking about."

"The hell I do. Shoulders tense, hair acting as a barrier between us, turned away as far as you can without turning your back, face getting red. I'm taking psychology and sociology classes, I know what the signs are."

"Stop talking. Please, I can't-"

"John's scared, Etheldrea. He's scared that someday you're going to be on a case and you might not come back. I'm scared too. And I bet Lestrade would be, and so would your Uncle, and Mrs. Hudson. Where are you going?"

Etheldrea had stood up and walked away. Abigail followed after her and tried to stop her. When she placed a hand on her best friends shoulder, it was rudely thrown off and she walked even faster. To make matters even worse, Etheldrea diverted through a patch of trees and scaled a fence, jumping down on the other side and hailing a cab.

Abigail didn't know what to do. She knew Etheldrea could only return home, but being there wouldn't make things any better. And John would be home from work until much later, and Etheldrea might not even go home just yet. Resisting the urge to cry, she dragged herself to the main road and took a cab back to the flat she shared with Roland and their roommates.

* * *

Etheldrea on the other hand was still fuming, even after having the cab drop her at a library. It was one place she could calm down, and also a place she needed to go to. She wasn't sure why she was so angry. She was doing her job even when she didn't have to, and she was doing more by proving a guilty man innocent. Her work was so important and she needed to do as much as she could to keep it in top quality. Why couldn't anyone understand that?

As she entered the library, breathing in the scent of paper and history, she calmed just a bit. The news archives were familiar and empty of most people besides a librarian. After retrieving the papers she needed, she sat and began to read through every article, searching for every mention of her father.

An hour later, with nearly nothing to help her and feeling exhausted and exasperated, she received some company. Mary sat across from her with a smile on her face and looked around at the papers she was going through.

"So how's it going? Have you found what you're looking for?" she asked.

Etheldrea frowned, "How did you find me?"

"Someone called John, told him you were here. I said I'd go."

"Abigail?"

"No, I can't remember his name. He sounded like a writing software."

Etheldrea groaned, "Uncle Mycroft."

"That's it."

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be at work?"

"It's a break. Also, John was starting to worry, you weren't answering your phone."

Etheldrea pulled out and saw she has three missed calls and a few texts.

"I silenced it. Sorry. I've just been researching. There's still a lot I have to go through, and there's so much to do." She added sadly, "I thought I would have this done by now."

"Why?"

"Well, it's been almost a year since my dad died and people still think he's a fraud: that he kidnapped those kids, that he committed all those crimes- and they're wrong. I know he would never harm an innocent person, especially kids, especially me."

Mary listened intently and then asked, "What was he like?"

"Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant. He was smarter than me, so very much and he could solve cases in a matter of minutes. If you met him, you never think that he'd be the fatherly type, but he was the very best. He'd help me when I needed it, and even when I thought I didn't need it. He always looked out for me, tried to make sure I was taken care of even when he wasn't around, and he loved me. We never really said; we never needed to, but I kind of wish we did because I would give anything to hear him say I love you again, to say anything again and- I'm sorry. We've only know each other a short while, this is way too much information from your boyfriends charge."

"Daughter."

"What?"

"He thinks of you as a daughter. Trust me, I can see it. Whenever he calls you, whenever he talks about you and he talks about you all the time, and whenever he's eager to get home it's so that he can see you. He loves you."

"I love him too. Maybe I should say that more. I should thank him more too. I should- there's a lot of things I should do. And a lot I shouldn't do. Maybe he wouldn't worry as much."

"He's always going to worry. That's what parents do."

"More like dads." Etheldrea mumbled to herself.

Tipping her head to the side, Mary asked, "Not moms?"

"Well, my mom isn't in the picture. Never really has been. I only had grandmothers."

Mary took her hand, "From now on, you have a mom to worry about you too. Or a mom figure, or a female figure if you want."

Etheldrea smiled, feeling the same care and protection from Mary as she did from John. Sure, it might take a little while for her to feel like she had a mom, but she could get there.

"Thank you, Mary."

* * *

Later that night, Etheldrea picked up her phone and went to her contacts. She chose the first name and hit Call. IT was picked up before the first ring finished.

"I'm sorry." Etheldrea said immediately, "I'm so sorry. I know you all worry, and I'm sorry I do that to you, and I'm sorry that I can't stop it. Sometimes I just feel like I'm not doing enough, and I think that if I fight harder, I work more that maybe just maybe I can live to my dad. I want to do everything I can to make him proud, but I'm putting my health aside to do that. It's not healthy, nothing about my current lifestyle is healthy and I- I need your help."

Abigail replied, _"Of course! You're my best friend, I will always be there. DO you want meet up again tomorrow?"_

"I'd love to."

* * *

**AN: I'm so sorry that these chapters are taking forever! I've always tried to keep a schedule of one chapter a week, and I have failed that many times usually by a week or two, but to me this is just ridiculous. There's a ton of crap going between school, family, and friends, I've been in state of mild panic since the end of February, and above all I wish I had more time for this series and I know it's no excuse but I feel like I owe you guys an explanation. I'm going to continue to write, of course, but The Blessed Unrest chapters will probably be weeks apart until the end of May/middle of June. I'm so sorry. I sincerely appreciate every review, criticism, favorite, follow and everything else, and I love that you take the time out of your day to read the silly fantasy of a teenager who wanted Sherlock to have a daughter. I completely understand any anger you feel. Above everything, I hate disappointing you guys. I can only beg for your forgiveness.**


	11. I Wanna Be Like Me

**What if I don't wanna be like you?**

**Not to make you cry**

**What if I don't wanna be like you?**

**Just because I was made to be exactly like me**

**What if I don't wanna be like you?**

**Not to tear you down**

**What if I don't wanna be like you?**

**Because I found I was made to be exactly like me**

**I wanna be like me**

* * *

As summer went on, Etheldrea and Abigail hung out more. She didn't focus on cases as much anymore, and she seemed happier. Mary finally moved in mid-June which found Etheldrea happier than she cared to admit. As they got to know each other, they found they had more in common such as books and authors. Mary had begun to teach her more about baking and they bonded more over that. John couldn't have been happier for that.

But as June ended and July came up, the happiness seemed to vanish for them both.

July third was the one year anniversary of Sherlock's death, and neither John nor Etheldrea were taking it very well. Mary noticed that John was quiet that day, not listening much to conversations, and even when he called Etheldrea it was a short, dull, conversation and not much else.

Etheldrea on the other hand was pouring herself into her work. Come that evening, Robinson almost had to force her to the breakroom. She didn't pry, she knew what was wrong from the gossip earlier that day, and she let Etheldrea handle it her own way. For most of the break she sat in the corner of the room, itching to get back to work and to anything to distract her.

Lestrade walked into the room and sat in the seat across from her. It was unusual for him to arrive this late. He also had no files with him which he always took care of so that she wasn't focusing on them throughout the rest of her evening.

"How are you Inspector?" she asked.

"Alright. You?"

"Just trying to keep busy.

"You know, he'd be so proud of you. Of everything you've done, and are still doing."

She tried to give him a smile and agreed, "I'm sure he would. He never had to say it though, I always knew. I could tell, growing up, that he was never very confident at being a father. However, he was wrong. He was the best there ever was. So, no files?"

He looked down, lips pressed in a line. She saw the nervousness rolling off of him.

"What's happened?"

"You can't freak out."

"I'll be the judge of that. What happened?"

"We aren't in charge of the investigation anymore."

"_What?_ Tell me you're joking."

He looked up at her, "I'm so sorry. I know how hard you've been working to do this. If it's any consolation, it's an entire team now. Not just the two of us; they'll be faster."

"And bias! Every idiot in the world believes my dad is a fraud, and many of them are here at the Yard. How are they supposed to prove his innocence if they don't look for it?"

He sighed, "Like we are? They aren't looking to prove his innocence, they're looking to figure out if he was involved in any of the crimes he solved."

"Alright, so I'm a bit of a hypocrite. Can you blame me? He's my dad, and he's been dead for a year. How can I just let this slide?"

Lestrade looked around the room to make sure no one was listening and then leaned in closer to whisper.

"I was going to wait a few days, but I did manage to get one piece of information. The day those kids were found, the day you were attacked, everyone thought it was Sherlock. But now they know it wasn't."

"How?" she asked in disbelief.

"A strand of hair. Can you believe that? They found a strand of hair on the floor and it belongs to someone else."

"Who?"

"Ethel, I don't think-"

"Lestrade, please. If not for the man who raised me, then for me, a young girl who was nearly killed-"

"Jesus, alright. You don't need to be so dramatic."

"You have to promise you won't do anything stupid."

"I never do."

"Etheldrea, I'm serious."

She groaned, "I promise."

"Jeremy Sandwood."

* * *

Despite knowing she wouldn't do anything stupid, she had crossed her fingers and after work that day had begun her search. When she wasn't working, she was searching for Jeremy Sandwood and anyone he was connected too. When summer ended, Abigail had to go back to school and with Etheldrea working nights they didn't have much time to see each other. While she hated not seeing her best friend, Etheldrea also felt some relief that she had more time. She was able to keep it hidden from John and Mary under the guise of reports for the Yard, but that didn't stop them from worrying about her health. As time went on, the late nights would catch up to her

Finding information on Sandwood was exhausting and going very slowly. There was next to nothing on him, no social media, no internet records, nothing connecting a man named Jeremy Sandwood. After a month of searching, she resorted to a tactic she hadn't used in a long time. While Sherlock's Homeless Network was disbanded, she could still find people who would help her. There was one particular woman who was good at hacking information databases. If she couldn't find him, then no one could.

It took a few weeks, but she was able to find a list of purchases he made at a pub and that was about it. She had told Etheldrea it was like he had disappeared off the face of the earth. For over a year there had been absolutely nothing. At least the pub was a start.

Later that week, as soon as she was done with work, she dressed up and headed there. John was none the wiser, thinking she was staying late at the Yard. It wasn't a popular bar and probably more than a little shady. The clothes she wore were more revealing than she was used to, but not enough to draw attention. She just needed to talk to the bar tender and get out. It was simple, really.

The bar was busy, groups playing games and drinking, and no one paid her any mind as she walked in. It was loud, rowdy, and if she liked social environments it would've been fun.

"What can I get you?" he asked when she walked up.

"Information on Jeremy Sandwood would be nice."

The fun atmosphere immediately changed and all eyes turned to her. There was a dangerous glint in

"And what do you need with that information?"

"I need to find him."

A hand grabbed her shoulder and roughly pulled her back, shoving her against the bar.

The man growled, "We don't need that filthy rat back here. And if you're here to get any more of us arrested-"

"I'm just looking for him, that's all."

"So was the last person, but that turn out so well for us."

He let go of her and then slapped her across the face with enough force to drive her head into the table. At that, many patrons hurried out of the building and some shouted at him to stop making it worse. "Now get out of here."

Etheldrea touched a hand to her head, feeling something sticky drip down. She had screwed up and wasn't about to get her answers. As quick as she could, which was very due to dizziness, she left the building and flagged down a cab. She couldn't go home yet, not in her state, and Lestrade would ask questions. She could go to Mycroft, but she didn't want the lecture. There was one place she could go that might have been risky, but it was her only hope.

The cab pulled up to the address and she quickly paid and went to the door. A light was on in the upper floors window, letting her know someone was up, and so she knocked. She waited for only a moment before the door opened. A young blonde man stood there, a little shocked to see the condition she was in.

"Roland, I assume?" she asked him.

He nodded, "Etheldrea Holmes?"

"Yes. May I come in?"

"Yeah. Abigail's just up the stairs."

He let her in and she went up while he disappeared to the kitchen. When Abigail looked up, she was even more shocked to see her.

"Do I really look that bad?" Etheldrea asked.

"Yes." she ushered her over and sat her down.

Roland entered with a first aid kit and pulled a chair up next to her. He immediately set to work and cleaned up the blood and set up a couple butterfly stitches on her forehead. She flinched a couple times and tried to stop him, but he persisted.

She asked, "Studying nursing?"

He replied with a smirk, "Childcare. That cut is wound-erful. Does it hurt?"

Etheldrea responded with a confused blink while Abigail tried not to laugh. He finished patching her up and then went to grab a small bag of ice. Abigail brushed a strand of hair from her face and looked at the bruised section of skin. She frowned and Etheldrea rolled her eyes, pulling herself from her grip.

"It's not that bad, and it's not why I'm here." She said.

"I thought we talked about this, I thought you and John talked about this?"

"Well, I suppose something got lost in translation."

Abigail said sternly, "Etheldrea Holmes, we are trying to help you."

"And I'm trying to help my dad."

Abigail understood that, knew that Etheldrea only had the best intentions in her actions- but her actions were getting out of hand. She was sinking lower and lower and soon nothing would pull her out.

"Is the risk worth it?"

"Of course."

"What's John going to say?"

"Hopefully nothing tonight. I . . . I was wondering if I could stay the night."

"Yes, but I have more questions."

"You always do."

"Who did this?"

"Some greasy guy in a pub."

"Why?"

"I asked the wrong question."

"What were you looking for?"

"The man who tried to either kidnap or kill me when my father found those kids."

"How long has this been going on?"

"Three months."

Abigail groaned and put her head in her hands, "I can't decide whether to be proud of how far you've gotten, or terrified of how much trouble you're getting into."

Roland came back and gave the bag to Etheldrea. She asked, "Do you have any questions?"

He said, "I would love to axe you a question, but it wouldn't be very knife of me to interrupt you girls."

Abigail sniggered while Etheldrea just stared.

"You can't do this again-" Abigail tried to say.

"I have a raging headache, can we talk about this in a bit?"

She sighed and looked at Roland, "Can you grab some painkillers?"

"Alright, but remember drugs might be a misstep that could cause a bad trip."

With a dopey smile he grinned at them both before leaving to get the medication. Abigail struggled to keep her laugh in, and saw that Etheldrea was confused.

"He likes puns."

Etheldrea nodded then winced, "I've noticed. He's kind of perfect for you, isn't he?"

She blushed, "I think so. What do you think about him?"

"He's kind, considerate, and he makes you laugh. I'm not an expert in 'love' and 'relationships' but he's definitely not a serial killer and I don't think he has the potential to be one. As long as there's that, and he makes you happy he's good enough for me."

Abigail laughed, "Thank you. I would have introduced you earlier but our schedules never seem to work out. Maybe you should stop by after work from now on. I'd be more than happy, and you could spent the night-"

"The cases-"

Roland came back and handed her a pill and a glass of water. She thanked him and took the medicine and resumed the conversation.

Abigail said, "Maybe you could . . . stop the cases."

"They're all I have-"

"What about us? Rolly-Polly, could you give us a minute?"

He nodded and left, entering a nearby room and shutting the door.

Etheldrea asked, "You know-"

"I'm not finished." She sat with her back straighter and her tone changed to more authoritative.

"For the past year, all of us have been looking out for you. We have tried our best to steer you on the right path, and we know it's difficult because you are the most stubborn person I have ever met, but you have to understand that we don't want to see you hurt."

"We?"

"Me, John, Mary, your Uncle, Mrs. Hudson. Have you talked to her lately? Because I'm sure it's been months. Both you and John haven't, but this is about you right now, and the behavior you've been displaying is worrying. You're acting like your dad and that's not a_ bad _thing, but you are losing yourself and I hate seeing that-"

Etheldrea stood up and headed for the door.

"Drea, wait, please."

She shook her head, "I can't do this, I can't listen, I can't-"

Without another word, she left. Abigail called John and let him know what was going on, and then spent the rest of her night trying not to cry. Roland kept assuring her she did what she had to, and all that she could, and from what he had heard of Etheldrea she would come around again very soon.

* * *

At five in the morning, Etheldrea slipped back into her and John's apartment. She was quiet, making sure that all creaks were silenced. As she walked into the darkened living room, a light turned on. John sat in a chair, an untouched drink and mobile on the table in front of him. He took a moment to take her in, a steel glare on his face. Mary was nowhere to be found.

"Hey. Sorry I didn't call-"

He stood up, "Do you have any idea how worried I was? How worried Mary was?"

"I know, and I'm sorry."

"You're sorry, but you're going to keep doing this, aren't you?"

"I need to find-"

"What if those men had knives? Or guns? Or hadn't given you "a warning" and had beat you to your last breath instead? Had left you in an ally or the street or figured out where you lived and dumped your body on the doorstep? What if I lost you? Etheldrea, do you have any idea what your death would do to me?"

"I _can_ take care of myself."

"I don't doubt that, I have never doubted that, but that doesn't mean you need to keep putting yourself in these situations. You have to stop this."

"John, I can't just stop-"

"No, listen, I'm ordering you. You are not doing cases, not anymore."

"You _can't_ tell me what to do. I'm an adult."

"You're under my roof, you will obey my rules!"

"Then I'll move out!"

Etheldrea regretted it the moment she said. The look on John's face, the absolute shock and sadness, filled her with guilt but she was too angry to care at the moment. She turned away and left the flat, slamming the door behind her.

It was supposed to just be a walk, a quick way for her to relax, but she had been walking for a while and she was still pissed. She wasn't paying attention to where she was going, and somehow she had ended up here of all places. Dire Grove Cemetery was the last place she wanted to be, but here she was standing outside of the black wrought iron gates. She could have just turned around, gone anywhere else, but she didn't. With just a little hesitation, she walked past the gates, past the church and then towards a black marble headstone. There were flowers, older ones and newer. They blocked the dates, but not the name.

Sherlock Holmes in gold lettering. Nothing else, just the name. It's how he would have wanted it.

Etheldrea stared for a few minutes, processing. This was her first time at his grave since the funeral. She never wanted to visit, and never expected to. Her father was gone. His body and bones, and his spirit or soul or whatever anyone wanted to believe in was gone too. She knew people normally talked to the deceased, knew that John and Mrs. Hudson, and others visited. But she never had. It was just a filled in hole with a rock on top; what was she supposed to do? She started to walk back, but the argument with John flew through her mind and she turned back.

"This is your fault, you know. If you hadn't gone and jumped off that bloody roof, if you had just stayed like you said you would. You would understand, you would encourage me, you help me and you would never stop me. But John thinks he can order me around like I'm still a little girl, and I'm not. He worries way too much and there's no reason too! I'm a great fighter and I can look after myself. What makes him think I need to stop taking cases, or stop looking for Moriarty's network? I can do it, I have to. How else am I supposed to keep the Holmes Legacy alive?"

She sighed before sitting down in front of the stone. Absentmindedly she pulled at the grass, and stared at the marble. This was all that was left of her father, a cold stone. She would never see him again, never hear him again, but she could still talk to him. And even though he couldn't listen or talk back, she was beginning to feel better.

"I miss you every day, and the cases don't help. They just distract me, and while sometimes that's welcome it doesn't stop me from thinking about how much better it would be if you were here. I can't _do this_ like you can. If you were in my place, you would have solved it months ago, but here I am stuck once again, and everyone's mad at me. I haven't talked to anyone in months. Not the way I should. I stopped connecting, I feel like I can't. But, I'm not you. I can't and never could do things like you, no matter how hard I tried. As many habits as I've picked up from you, they don't match the traits. Maybe they're right, maybe John's right. Sandwood was nothing but trouble, and . . . the risks aren't worth it."

She stood up and brushed the grass off herself.

"I only ever wanted you to be proud of me, and there's never been any doubt of that in my mind. But without you here I have no way of knowing if you still are. So, I hope you don't mind, but . . . I'm going to pass that torch to John. You can't be here for me anymore, but he is and he will be- I hope. I've made a huge mess of things, and I have to go make quite a bit of apologies. I think I'll come by again, if you don't mind the company. I'm sure the afterlife is boring with all the murders happening here. Besides, we still have more to talk about. I miss you, I love you."

Etheldrea began walking. She had been gone for a few hours, and it would take another hour to get back. When she arrived, Lestrade was just leaving and he stopped her. He looked at her, obviously knowing what she had been up to and waited for her to defend herself.

Etheldrea said, "I'm sorry I broke our promise. I'm sorry that I kept looking. I assure you though, I'm done."

"Really now? Are you sure you aren't saying that to get me off your back?"

"I visited dad. I talked to him, and I, well let's just say I did some soul searching."

"Soul searching? That doesn't sound like you."

She nodded, "I know, but I'm trying to change. Trying to figure everything out, find my place in this world."

Lestrade smiled, "I believe you. I'm happy for you."

"How's John?"

"I'm not sure how to compare, but he seemed distracted when I was with him. I brought over some things of your dad's. I was going through my desk last night and found them. Completely forgot about them, can you believe it?"

"Thank you Lestrade."

"I'll let you go now. You have some explain to do."

"Yes, sir."

He walked away, but then turned back and called to her.

"Uh, have you heard from Anderson recently?"

She frowned, "No, why?"

"No reason, just wanted to make sure he wasn't giving you any trouble."

"I haven't heard about him since he left. Even before then he avoided me."

"Alright, just checking. Have a good day."

"You too."

Etheldrea remembered the rumors going around the Yard. Anderson had taken Sherlock's death hard, insanely hard for a man who hated every fiber of his being just the day before. Anderson hadn't wanted to believe Sherlock died; he had started making up crazy stories about how he was traveling the world and solving crimes, how he had faked his death and every week he had another crazy conspiracy. He never tried to talk to her though, always avoided her eyes if they ever crossed paths. IT was for the best.

She didn't want to think about Anderson, she wanted to get this over with. John probably wasn't angry anymore, but she still didn't want to see any disappointment or sadness. She walked up to the door and turned the handle only to find it locked. In her hurry to leave, she had left her bag and so her keys were gone. As tough as the situation already was, having to ring the bell was even more embarrassing.

A moment later John opened the door. When he saw it was her he stepped back and led her to the couch. There was a new drink on the table and a video paused of Sherlock sitting in Baker Street on the screen. She smiled at the video, remembering being there when he and Lestrade made it. He played it quickly, showing Sherlock giving a wink, and then shut it off.

"Etheldrea, I'm sorry I yelled-"

She shook her head, "You aren't the one who has to apologize. The past year has been hard on both of us, and I put so much focus into someone who's not coming back that I stopped caring about the people who are still here. I've made you worry so much, and I've lied so many times. I want you to know that I am going to stop. I'll need your help though. You were right, no more cases; I can't handle them. I'm sorry John, I am so sorry."

"I forgive you. But I don't understand why. If you stopped caring, why the lies?"

"I'm not sure. I just- I didn't want to lose anyone else. I realized that I was just pushing people away by doing that, but I was scared. I still am."

"Scared of what?"

"Of being abandoned, again. Everyone seems to leave me. I don't want that to happen."

"It won't, I promise."

"I've had a lot of promises broken. It's hard for me to believe that."

"We'll work on it. We'll work on everything. I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you John."

"Of course."

She gave him a hug, "I love you."

He smiled and hugged back, "I love you too. One last thing. You're not moving out, right?"

"Oh god, no. No way. I'm sorry I said that."

He laughed, "It's fine. We were both tired and angry. Speaking of, go to bed. You've been wandering about all night and morning, and you've got work tonight. It'll be a miracle you don't catch a cold."

She rolled her eyes, "That was one time, and there was a bug going around at school."

But she relented anyway. By the time she hit her bed she felt the exhaustion and was sleeping in minutes. When she woke up she started making a plan. She needed to start connecting again, and she would. When her days off came, she would visit everyone, Mycroft, Abby, Mrs. Hudson, and maybe even Molly. She had been at her worst. Things would only get better.

* * *

**AN: Check tumblr (link on profile) to see an update on characters and their face models.**

**I'm so sorry you guys! After school we went on vacation and I didn't have time to write, and then while we were on vacation my laptop's hardware got corrupted so I had to send it out to get repaired, and then Geek Squad just kept screwing up so it took longer than it should have and I ended up losing all my files and it's just been a tough couple of months. But, I'm back with a functioning computer and with more Etheldrea!**


	12. Brave

**Everybody's been there,**

**Everybody's been stared down by the enemy**

**Fallen for the fear**

**And done some disappearing,**

**Bow down to the mighty**

**Don't run, just stop holding your tongue**

**Maybe there's a way out of the cage where you live**

**Maybe one of these days you can let the light in**

**Show me how big your brave is**

* * *

It was a couple weeks later that found Etheldrea celebrating with Abigail and Roland. Her birthday was the next day, and they wouldn't be able to see each other so Abby suggested they celebrate it the night before. Etheldrea hadn't wanted to, she never did anything worth celebrating on her birthday. In the past, because her Uncle's present was to suspend all security on her for that day, she used the day for herself and usually went urban exploring and then to diner with her dad afterwards. Since she had turned eighteen, the security had dropped and she could have been free to explore whenever she wanted. However after both her seventeenth birthday and eighteen went horribly wrong, the feeling of celebration was minimal.

But as her nineteenth came along, Abigail talked about having dinner and cake and presents. When Etheldrea tried to stop her though, Abigail wouldn't hear of it. It was either a small get together with Abigail and Roland, or she would gather everyone she knew Etheldrea was friends, and close acquaintances with for a full party and Etheldrea knew Mary if not John would have probably helped her. So she held her tongue and agreed to dinner. Besides, it wasn't the worst thing in the world, and she was doing exactly as she promised – starting to connect again.

"Thank you for dinner." Etheldrea told them as the table was cleared, "And for the cake. Your baking skills have improved infinitely since the last time we made cupcakes."

"I know right?" Abigail smiled, "It was the yeast we could do."

Etheldrea groaned while Roland high fived her, "Good one, love."

Abigail beamed and stood up, walking to their bedroom and coming back with a couple of purple wrapped presents. Taped to one was a card. Etheldrea opened it first and read it. The front was plain write with period elements spelling ou Ir Th Dy, and inside were messages from the two.

_To the most amazing woman I call my best friend. We've been through tough times but we always prevailed and it only added to the good times which forever outweigh the bad. Happy Birthday and here's to many more adventures! ~ Abby_

_Although we haven't known each other very long, I look forward to getting to know you better. Happy Birthday Etheldrea. ~ Roland_

_PS: Be careful with birthdays, too many can kill you._

The puns never stopped apparently, but she smiled still and continued to the presents. A flimsy package was a navy colored shirt that read_ The Universe is Made of Protons Neutrons Electrons and Morons._

"Okay, this is actually perfect." She said.

"Roland knew you'd like it."

Etheldrea opened the other present which was more solid and definitely a book. She turned to its cover and found it was a book on code breaking and cyphers. On the inside was a piece of paper covered in squiggles, lines and dots.

"This is awesome. Thank you. Best birthday I've had in years."

"Really? Good, you deserve it."

Abigail picked up the paper and went to throw it away. Roland took a seat across from Etheldrea. He nodded towards the shirt.

"Perfect huh?"

"The shirt doesn't lie."

He shrugged, "I wasn't sure if you'd like it. I was torn between the shirt and this book about helium. I almost regret my choice, you wouldn't have been able to put it down."

"Two can play this game; what do you do with a sick chemist?"

"You helium." He smirked.

"Yeah, but if you can't helium, and you can't curium, then you might as well barium."

He acted as if he'd been slapped, "Ouch. You win this round."

"I've been around Abigail far too long to lose, but don't worry; I only make chemistry jokes periodically."

"You strike again! I'll have to up my game."

Abigail came back and sat down, "So, what are you doing this weekend? Saturday morning exactly?"

"Nothing until noon. Why?"

"There is a fair, an art fair, and I was wondering if you'd like to go with us."

"Sure."

* * *

"And then he threw us out and said we couldn't go back, but jokes on him. I'll called some back up and as we left we saw him being arrested."

Etheldrea finished telling Mycroft about the art forager she and Abigail had stumbled upon and he listened with mild interest. Usually he couldn't care less about these stories but today he was unusually attentive.

"Good for you." He said, "And the day isn't even over yet. What other trouble are you up to today?"

"No trouble. I'm going to go see Mrs. Hudson."

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

She nodded guilty, "Have you been keeping an eye on her?"

"A weathered one. She's doing fine. Two hundred and twenty one is still unoccupied. She hasn't put it out for rent."

"No, she won't. She told me so last time I saw her."

"And how are things with John and . . . Mary?" He said her name not like he had forgotten it, but as if he wasn't sure it was her name.

"Good. Great, actually. Things have been getting better, and while I know I've still got some time to prove it, they're happy that I'm slowing down. Mary's let me bake with her, and she's been playing chess with me. She's very good at it, almost as good as you. And don't get me started on how she's helped John. He's so much happier now, so much more than I could have hoped for. She's also understanding. After everything that happened, she didn't yell or lecture me, not that I didn't need it of course, but she comforted me. Helped me feel better about the decisions I'm making. She's . . . she's like a mom."

"Do you talk often with her?"

"Of course, nearly every day."

"What do you know about her past?"

Etheldrea sat up a little straighter, confused, "Not much. Why?"

"Nothing to worry about, I'm sure. There's just not much about her before the past five years."

She shrugged, "She's an orphan. She floated around for most of her life. Will you quit spying on people?"

Mycroft nodded and let the matter drop, "I only do it for your protection."

"I don't_ need_ protection."

He smirked, "It keeps my conscious clear."

"You actually have one of those? Why isn't that the national headline?"

"And here I was just being to enjoy your company."

"There are times you don't? But, Uncle Mycroft, how can you say such a thing?" she asked dramatically with a hand on her heart.

He rolled his eyes, "At least that's back to normal."

"Sorry? What's normal?"

"Your humor. I'm not sure if you've noticed the change but even in the past few weeks you're transitioning to yourself again."

Etheldrea asked slowly, "How long haven't I been myself?"

"Over a year. I knew you were grieving, so I let you." He looked down, "Perhaps I should have intervened sooner."

"Honestly Uncle Mycroft, I don't think it would have made a difference. It's you; I'd probably rebel even more if you tried."

He met her eyes, "At least your happy now. And getting healthier."

"Why did you let me stay with John?" she asked suddenly. It was a question she had for a while.

"Because, I had to protect you."

"But I would have closer to you, under your eyes, your rules. I wouldn't obey of course, but you still let me stay with him."

"Do you wish I hadn't?"

"No! No- no offense, but I would rather have . . ."

"I understand. I didn't put up much of a fight either." He sighed, "I suppose I felt . . . guilty of how things happened, and how things were going to turn out. I'm not a caretaker, Etheldrea and you would have been miserable. Despite what you think about me, I do care about your wellbeing."

She smiled, "Thank you. For everything."

* * *

After lunch, Etheldrea decided to walk to Baker Street. It was a nice day, and the walk wasn't that long . . . and she wasn't sure if Mrs. Hudson would be happy to see her. The most she had seen from Mrs. Hudson were her comments on John's blog, but since he was done with that she hadn't heard anything. Mrs. Hudson wouldn't hate her, but she would be mad and a mad Mrs. Hudson was no fun for anyone.

Waking towards her was a familiar face who wore a long scarf and her hair pulled back.

"Molly." She called as they got closer, "How are you?"

"Hello Etheldrea. I'm fine. What about you?"

"Better than I've been in a while. What have you been up to?"

"Nothing, just work."

"That's a lie-" Molly looked alarmed when she said that, "Your lipstick's smudged."

Molly blushed, "He's not from work."

Etheldrea smiled, "Good. You deserve it."

"Thanks. You look nice. Your hair's longer, I've never seen it long before- it looks great."

"I needed a change. Thank you."

"Well, it was nice seeing you again. I wish we could see each other more often but- work, I suppose."

She looked away from Etheldrea as she said it. It wasn't quite a lie, but Etheldrea knew Molly didn't intend to see her often if at all. She didn't blame her either; those times were over and the memories still needed time to fade.

"Goodbye Molly."

Etheldrea continued her way, and Molly in the opposite direction. Baker Street was a while away but she made it at a reasonable time. She stood outside the door, rung the door bell and waited. Nothing had changed; the paint was the same, the windows has the same curtains, and even the brass knocker was tilted at a slight angle.

The door opened and Mrs. Hudson peered out. When she recognized Etheldrea there was a slight frown on her face, but she let her in and to the kitchen. Everything looked and smelt the same, and she felt like she was stepping into a different world. Mrs. Hudson bustled around, making hot cocoa instead of tea which Etheldrea preferred. She hadn't said a word, but the angry silence was enough to make Etheldrea feel all the more guilty and remind her that too much had changed.

Mrs. Hudson placed the cup in front of her and sat down, looking at her and waiting for an explanation.

"I'm sorry-"

"And you should be. It feels like years since I've seen you and Abigail tells me that you've been getting into all sort s of trouble. Gangs, and crooks, and murderers? Lying to your friends, your family? What kind of life is that? And now you're trying to change everything?"

Etheldrea sighed and told her everything, what she did and why she did, how she thought she could be closer to her dad and how she failed to do so. Mrs. Hudson always made her feel like she could reveal anything, no matter how mad or sad she was, without judging her actions until the end. She probably said more than she needed, but after so much time away and being back in a place she once called home, everything spilled out. Mrs. Hudson went from looking angry to more concern for Etheldrea.

"I lost myself, I thought I lost everything, and I didn't want to get hurt anymore. I pushed everyone way, and I am so sorry. There's nothing I can do to earn forgiveness-"

Mrs. Hudson shook her head and took her hands, "Well of course there is. You're like a granddaughter to me, I'll always forgive you, no matter what."

"I don't deserve that."

"You deserve nothing but the best. I understand dear, and I know it hurts. But I hope you remember that your father loved you more than anything and anyone, and that he would never have wanted you to go on this- revenge path! You're still so young, you deserve to live _your _life not someone else's."

"I'm still understanding that, but I'm getting there. Thank you Mrs. Hudson."

"Of course dear. I'm so happy to see you again! I've missed you and John quite a bit. Is he doing better?"

"Yes, probably better than I have. What have you been up to?"

"The same things. Taking care of the shop, the houses. Mrs. Turner and I have been having game nights with some friends. Every week we get together and play some cards, have some drinks and just talk about the past. Maybe you cod join us!"

"Thank you for the offer, Mrs. Hudson, but I work nights."

"Oh that's right. How is it? Must be exciting?"

"It was in the beginning. I'm used to the routine now, and nothing will ever be as exciting as when I was younger, but I manage to keep things interesting."

"No one's bothering you, right?"

"Not anymore. Everyone either tolerates me or ignores me. Not that I have a problem with that."

"You're the same as you were as a little one. Do you remember a day I picked you up from school and you told me everyone ignored you, even the teachers, and it had been the best school day you had ever had."

Etheldrea laughed, "Yep. No one talked to me, no bullied me, and the teachers didn't have the energy for the day's arguments. I just read whenever, all day. That happened quite a few times, actually."

The two continued to talk about Etheldrea's school days, and Mrs. Hudson's game nights, and everything that made them both happy. Before long, Etheldrea had to leave. Mrs. Hudson walked her to the door and gave her a hug. Etheldrea held on for just a bit longer, remembering immediately the feeling of love and safety she always had.

"You'll visit more, won't you?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"I will, I promise."

* * *

A few days later Etheldrea was sitting in the breakroom with Lestrade. She was still visiting Mrs. Hudson as promised, and she had plans to see Abigail after work that night. Lestrade was keeping an observant eye on her. Just because she knew she was keeping her word, doesn't mean he (and everyone else) believed her outright.

"How's John?" he asked, "I haven't talked to him in a few weeks. Anything new?"

"Not really. He works, the clinic keeps him busy, and he has Mary. He doesn't worry about me as much, and he's happy. All of us are. I've been getting better at contacting people, you know."

"I know, and that's great. That's really great. It's fantastic to see you getting out again. Having some fun. You're still a kid after all."

She rolled her eyes, "Hardly. What about you? What's new with you?"

"Oh not much. Working, going home or the pub depending, maybe meeting some friends. My nephew comes to visit once a month. Maybe you could stop by, say high, and maybe have dinner-"

"Thank you Lestrade, but I don't know him well enough."

"You could. You two seemed to have gotten on well at the Christmas party a couple years ago."

"And then we never talked again. I appreciate the offer, but I'll have to decline."

He shook his head, "Alright, but if you change your mind, let me know."

* * *

**AN: Alright! I'm here again! I've had some family things going on and then came to the realization that by the time this chapter would be ready to post, not only would Etheldrea be 19, but so would I! Yesterday was my birthday and as a present I give you guys a new chapter! I know it's a bit of a filler but there will be more in the next one, which I can't wait to get started on. Take a guess as to what it entails.**


	13. Islands

**I'm ready for the sea change**

**Helpless felt this coming from a mile away**

**And now you're looking at me babe, and how we'll separate if we can**

**Cause I still count on one hand the number of good men I know**

* * *

In December, the snow fell lightly Etheldrea walked along the perimeter of the jewelry shop. Officers filled in an out, Michaels was talking with the owner, and from what she heard the security tapes were of no help. Broken glass littered the area, and it was her job to make sure no civilians went past the tape. No witnesses, no suspects, and no clue as to when this night would be over.

Robinson came out from the store and began walking with her.

"Did you see anything in there?" Robinson asked.

"Aside from mess and stolen jewels?"

"You know what I mean."

Etheldrea was confused, why would Rachel- why would anyone on the team want to come to her?

Rachel rolled her eyes, "Your observation skills have not disappeared, I know that. You had to see something."

Etheldrea looked towards the building where one of the employees was standing, arms crossed and head down.

"The younger cashier- it was definitely him. The glass was broken from the inside, the tapes are blank, the way he's acting. I know Michaels has figured it's him already, but finding the evidence is a bit tough. Try the dumpster around back, I'm sure his prints are all over it."

"The bin, seriously?"

"Did you smell him? His entire person stinks."

"Alright." Robinson shrugged, "Whatever you say. I'll go tell Michaels."

She walked away without another word, leaving Etheldrea stunned. Michaels came up to her now and then, sometimes Collins, and Lestrade always asked her now and then about clues during their breaks, but never anyone else. While they had gotten used to her presence, deduction was still taboo and only resulted in glares.

Later that night, when they were preparing to leave Etheldrea stopped and asked her why she had asked for her observations. Rachel only shrugged and said it was just "holiday spirit" before leaving.

* * *

Later that week just less than a couple before Christmas, Mary had taken it upon herself to decorate the flat, and Etheldrea was more than willing to help. There was a tree covered with silver and purple ornaments in the corner by the window, and that window was decorated with multicolored lights and gold tinsel. Tinsel was on every flat surface, and snowmen figurines were on a few shelves. Etheldrea had gone out and bought a wax warmer and some Christmas themed scents so that the living room smelled faintly of peppermint and pine.

The girls sat on the sofa, smiling proudly at their work while they drank hot cocoa. John was sure to be surprised when he got home later that night.

Etheldrea said, "I've always loved Christmas. Nothing bad ever seemed to happen when Christmas came around. I'm mean sure, there were robberies, and kidnappings, and murders, but we always solved them so it wasn't like the holidays were completely ruined."

"What was your favorite Christmas?" Mary asked.

"Any dinner with my grandparents, dad, and Uncle in the past nineteen years of my life."

"Are you going to see them this year?"

"I don't know, we haven't really talked much. Grandmother usually emails me or calls, but ever since dad died, contact has been pretty rare. What about you? Do you have any Christmas stories?"

Mary looked down sadly, "No, not really. It's just been party of one for a while."

Etheldrea smiled, "Not this year."

She smiled back, "Not this year."

Etheldrea's phone rang, a call from Inspector Michaels. It wasn't for work though; she was needed at the Yard as soon as possible, apparently for questioning.

"Hopefully this won't take too long." She told Mary.

"Is it bad?"

"It shouldn't be. I haven't done anything as far as I can tell."

As she rode to the Yard she tried to think about anything she could have done wrong. Her reports were fine, her files too, the robbery was nothing and would have been brought up sooner than now. It couldn't be anything she had done, so why did they need to talk to her and why did it seem so serious?

When she walked in, eyes turned to her with glares, or people ignored her completely. It was like when she first started working here. Down the hallway, Michaels was waiting for her at his office. He led her further down the way to the interrogation room. Through the window she could see two people, an officer she didn't know, and the Chief Superintendent.

"Sir, what's going on?" she asked.

"It's just some questions about your father's cases. You just have to tell them what you know. It'll be quick."

She nodded and entered the room, taking a seat and folding her hands together. Michaels followed and stood behind her. She remembered when the Chief Superintendent had been there to arrest her father. John had punched him for her after he called Sherlock a weirdo.

The officer she didn't know spoke, "Miss Holmes, my name is Officer Fischbach. I'd like to ask you some questions about your involvement in past cases."

"Ask away."

"How often were you around cases that your father partook in?"

"As often as I could be. I had school of course, so I would join late most of the time."

"What was the last case you were involved with Sherlock Holmes?"

"The Ambassadors children were kidnapped."

"It's been said that James Moriarty orchestrated the event, however evidence suggests that it was Mr. Holmes. Do you believe this?"

"No."

"You believe he was innocent?"

"I believe he was framed."

"Even when he took John Watson hostage?"

"Yes. Moriarty put him under pressure, forced him to make a decision and give himself more time."

The Superintendent spoke, "More time for what, exactly?"

"To prove himself innocent."

"But he couldn't?"

"No." she looked at her hands, "He died before he could."

"But if he was trying to prove himself innocent, why did he kill himself?"

Etheldrea shook her head, "Your guess is as good as mine. Are we done now?"

"No! See, these stories don't match-"

Officer Fischbach tried to stop him as his face grew redder and redder. Etheldrea could see the interview was hardly one at all. It was the Superintendent trying to get her to admit her father did everything- kidnapped, killed, arranged- and she wasn't backing down. She straightened her back and clenched her fists.

"It's not going as well as you thought, is it? You'd thought it would be simple and shut, but you're finding pieces that don't fit. People who agree with my father, people who don't. Evidence that suggests he may have been innocent but then there's something else that may prove it." Etheldrea said, "The stories don't match because you're looking at lies. Instead of probing a dead man's daughter, try questioning people who are actually important. Witnesses, past victims, suspects- not friends and family."

Inspector Michaels walked next to her and motioned for her to get up.

He said, "Your questions have been answered. I think Officer Holmes is finished."

"Thank you for your time." Fischbach said before the Superintendent could makes things worse.

Etheldrea nodded and left, Michaels following next to her. When they reached his office, he led her in and closed the door behind them.

"Sir, what was that _really_ about?"

"You said it yourself. The pieces don't fit. Nothing seems to match up. They're having a hell of a time trying to figure out the mystery. They thought that you, as his daughter, might know more than you were letting on. While the Chief may not have been convinced, Fischbach was. I don't think you'll have to be questioned anymore. You did well. You handled the situation perfectly."

"Thank you, sir."

"Have a good day. I'll see you tomorrow."

Etheldrea said goodbye and left. Just before she could exit the building, Lestrade stopped her.

"Hey, glad I caught you. I was wondering, if you were going to the Christmas Party next week?"

"Oh, no. I think the party would be better without me."

"No? Come on, it'll be fun. I'll be there, and I'll probably spend the whole night talking to Donovan. You wouldn't want that, now would you?"

Etheldrea laughed, "Of course not. What if I came for, I don't know, an hour?"

He smiled, "That's be great! Can't wait!"

Lestrade walked away and Etheldrea noticed he seemed happier about her answer than he should have been. If he was planning something, she was absolutely clueless- but what would he be planning? There wasn't anything special about the party that he could surprise her with at work. Unless, he was just happy to hear her getting out more even with people she'd know or care for.

* * *

The week went by quick and then the night of the Yard's Christmas party came. Etheldrea checked herself over in the mirror once and prepared to leave. She had her purse, and in her hand was the cash she needed for the cab. Mary and John were sitting in the living room and when she walked in Mary shook her head.

"No, no you are not going there looking like that."

Etheldrea looked down at her clothes, some slacks and a white blouse. Her hair was in a ponytail, and the only jewelry she had was her pendant.

"Why? This is what I usually wear, it's nice."

"Yes, but this isn't work, this a party." Mary stood up, "Come with me. I think I have just the thing. Do you like dresses?"

"Usually. What do you have in mind?"

Mary dug through her closet and pulled out a dark purple dress. It had long, off shoulder sleeves and ended just above her knees. There was a black satin belt that went with it. Mary had her put it on and then came back with her makeup bag. Etheldrea sat on the bed while Mary primped her up. Once that was done, she took her hair out of its ponytail and fluffed it back.

"There, now you're going to a party."

Etheldrea looked at herself in the mirror. Mary had done a great job. She never really cared about makeup, but she looked more elegant at the moment, and the dress looked well on her even though it showed off her shoulders. She briefly touched one of the scars she had before flipping her hair to cover them.

"Thank you Mary, I looked amazing."

"Of course you do, now get going or you'll miss everything. Have a great time."

Etheldrea said goodbye to John and Mary, promised to be back by eleven, and then hurried to get a cab. In her haste, while she had the money for the cab, she had forgotten her wallet.

The party was at a restaurant a short ride away, and was in full swing. Officers had brought their families- husbands, wives, and even a few children. Friends talked with each other around room, and a live band played which couples danced to. There was a few games in the corner for the children, but they were mostly fine playing tag with each other.

She saw her supervisors with their families, and some colleagues too. At a table near the window, Etheldrea saw Lestrade sitting with Donovan. She walked over and greeted them.

"Hello Inspector, Donovan." Etheldrea said.

"Holmes." She mumbled, avoiding her eyes.

"Etheldrea!" Lestrade exclaimed, "Glad you could make it. Take a seat."

Donovan looked as if that was the last thing she wanted her to do, and Etheldrea wasn't all that thrilled to sit with her either.

"I will, I'm just going to grab a drink first."

She walked to the refreshments table and grabbed a cup to fill. There wasn't a line so she took her time so she wouldn't have to see Donovan. She even stepped away from the bowl and stood to observe people. Happy couples, not so happy ones, friends and enemies, affairs, debts, new houses, promotions, and the occasional alcoholic. Nothing new or unusual-

She was near the hall leading to the bathrooms when he came out. He paused for just a moment to give her a smile and then continued on his way. She blinked once, trying to figure out if it really was him or just a trick of the light, but he went to sit by Lestrade and there was no doubt. The last time she had seen him he had been closed off, nervous, and definitely talking to someone else. This was why Lestrade had been so happy to hear she was coming to the party.

Dark curly but short hair, and brown eyes, wearing a nice and tie, and obviously aware of who she was. Samuel Lestrade had just walked past her and was now sitting with his Uncle. She should have turned away, hidden in the bathroom, found any way to escape, but Lestrade saw her and motioned for her to come over. Both of them had seen her and there was no way she could back out now.

She put on a smile, cursing the fact there wasn't any alcohol, and walked back over to the table. Lestrade pulled out a chair for her right next to Sam.

Sam held out his hand and she shook it, "Etheldrea. It's been a couple years."

She nodded, "Yes. At another Christmas party of all things."

"What a coincidence. Every time we meet it just happens to be around Christmas."

"Maybe it's no coincidence." She looked at Lestrade, "Maybe it's your Uncle."

Lestrade laughed, "No ma'am. At least, not the past couple of times."

Sam said, "Either way, it's nice to see you again."

"The same to you." She kept her eyes down.

Donovan said, "So, Sam, I believe you were going to tell us about your job. How's it going?"

"Yeah. It's great. In the mornings I have training and afternoons I have classes. The training is tough but I can handle it. The classes are awesome. I've met a lot of great people."

"Wat do you do?" Etheldrea asked.

"I joined the Army. I'm learning to be a linguist."

Donovan said, "That's admirable. What have you learned?"

"Currently Arabic, although I might be taking on another language at the end of the year."

Lestrade said, "Etheldrea might be able to help you if you need it. She knows a ton of languages."

"Really? What can you speak?"

Etheldrea shook her head, "Not a ton. Just Italian, French, and some Spanish and Arabic."

"When I get more proficient, maybe we could have some conversations."

"Perhaps."

"What have you been up to?"

"Nothing important. Work, friends, that's about it."

"How's it been? How have _you_ been?"

"Good. Better than I have in a while."

Lestrade smiled and stood up, not very subtly urging Donovan to go with him.

"We'll be right back, we're just going to go grab something to eat."

Donovan leaned towards him and asked quietly, "What is this about?"

He pulled her away but not before they could hear him whisper back, "I'll explain in a minute."

Sam laughed and said, "I think Uncle Greg wants me to make a friend."

"I'm sure that's always been the case."

Etheldrea fiddled with her now empty cup, and refused to look at him. There had definitely been some miscommunication between them the last time they met, and she wasn't sure what their sanding was. Did he want to be friends? Did he think they _were_ friends- but that couldn't be it since he said "make a friend" – unless he was joking? Maybe Lestrade had meant something else and neither of them were getting it-

"I'm sorry." Sam said, interrupting her thoughts.

"About what?"

"Your dad. I couldn't believe it when I heard."

"Thank you. It was hard for me to believe too."

"When you said better than in a while-"

"I'm moving on." She shook her head, "I was silly. Desperate to prove the media wrong, desperate to prove everyone wrong. I did . . . a lot of stupid things. Ended up hurting my family and friends more than myself."

"I wish I could have helped, but after the party I, uh, I wasn't sure if you still wanted to talk."

Etheldrea looked up, "Really? You weren't sure? Because I thought you didn't- I know I had made a fool of myself and our first impressions were probably the worst."

"You did not make a fool of yourself. You actually were great to talk to. Still are."

Etheldrea smiled, "You're not so bad yourself. How have you been? Since the party, I mean."

"Great. After Christmas, my mom found a better house and neighborhood. The school was better also. A few months later I applied for the Army and spent about a year going through training. A couple months ago started the classes. Not as exciting as police work yet, but I'll get there."

"Oh, police work isn't as exciting as you think. I do a lot of writing mostly, it's rare that I'm at an actual scene and when they do happen, it's very minor. Robberies, domestic disturbances, and such."

"You make it sound like no big deal!"

"So do you."

Sam and Etheldrea began to swap stories about the things they'd seen. Sam talked about pranks, hard training experiences, and fun nights with the friends he made at the base. Etheldrea talked about some of the wacky jobs she'd witnessed and the more serious ones. She told him about the employee who had tried to see from the jewelry store he worked at and how he truly thought he could get away with it. They didn't see Lestrade or Donovan for a while, but they wouldn't have noticed either way. Before they knew it, over an hour had passed.

The band had been playing all night and many couples were dancing to it. Sam looked out at them and smiled to Etheldrea before standing and holding out a hand.

"Would you like to dance?"

Etheldrea glanced at the couples and nervously replied, "Thank you for the offer, but I can't."

"Can't dance?"

"Not the sort they're doing."

"What can you dance to, then?"

"Waltz, sort of. My dad tried to teach me, but I mostly stepped on his feet."

"Well, I can teach you. I'm not much a dancer myself, but it's still fun. Just follow me."

Hesitantly, Etheldrea took his hand and stood. They stepped away from the table and Etheldrea stood in front of him and kept her hands at her sides. Sam swayed with the rhythm and raised his hand to shake them side to side. Etheldrea tried to follow but she felt incredibly silly and covered her face with her hands.

Sam laughed, "Okay, let's try something else."

He took her hands and held them, pulling and pushing and swinging at the same time. They moved closer, and the apart, closer, and then apart. Then he let go of one of her hands and spun her around with the other. Then they went back to their original move.

"See, you're getting it!" Sam said.

Etheldrea laughed, "If you call this dancing, I suppose so."

"Hey, my moves are amazing!"

He let go of her and danced, shimmying side to side and rolling his hands around each other. Etheldrea laughed and tried to follow. They danced for a while, and then the songs ended and switched to something more slow. She tried to walk back to the table but Sam grabbed her hand.

"Wait, this is going to be the easiest dance you've ever done. Just spin in a circle."

He placed a hand on her back and the other held hers, and she did as he said, spinning with him to the song. She had never really slowed danced before, not if the times when Sherlock tried to teach her counted, and she wasn't too sure of what to do. But somehow, Sam made her less nervous about what to do and she felt at ease.

"You dance wonderfully." Sam said.

"Thank you. My teacher is very good."

"Really now? What's he like? Tall?"

"Not really. If you consider less than an inch above me tall."

"What about mysterious?"

"Not at all. He's very open."

"Is he handsome?"

"Well, aesthetics are based on influences in childhood, roles models and such. However, conventionally, yes."

"And what about to you?"

Etheldrea smirked, "You'll just have to wonder."

"Damn. Well, I must say, he has a beautiful partner."

Etheldrea blushed, "Thank you."

They danced in quiet for a while and then far too soon it ended, and the music went back to the upbeat dances. While Sam was ready to keep dancing, Etheldrea discovered much more time had passed than she thought. She excused herself and quickly walked back to the table for her purse. Lestrade and Donovan were back in their places, Donovan avoiding her gaze and Lestrade looking like the cat that got the cream.

"Having fun?" he asked.

"I was, but now I have to go."

"What? Why?" Sam asked, coming up behind her.

She looked around her chair, and then the table and under it. Where had her purse gone to?

"I told John I'd be home nearly two hours ago, and by now I can't find my purse or phone-"

Then she remembered that she had left her purse on the floor of John and Mary's room.

"Damn it." She muttered, "I forgot it."

Donovan looked at her, "You? Forget something? How does that happen?"

She rolled her eyes and ignored her, "I've really got to get home."

Lestrade shook his head, "Don't worry about it. John called me when you didn't show. I let him know you were having fun, and would be a while. So stay, it'll be fine."

"I don't know, it's late and I've lunch with my Uncle. Thank you for convincing me to come though. You're right, I did have fun." She turned to Sam and held out a hand for him to shake, "And thank you for the dancing."

She started to leave but he grabbed her hand, "Wait, I'll walk you outside."

He held out an arm which, after a small hesitation, she took in hers and they walked away. Donovan watched her in shock, eyes wide and mouth agape.

"I can't believe it. I never thought I'd see the day." She told Lestrade.

He watched them with a fond smile and nodded, "Me neither, but I had to try."

Etheldrea and Sam walked to the curb, and she prepared to say good bye. It was cold out, and snow was gently falling. As late as it was, not many people were out and about and of the few cars that drove by were all cabs.

Sam asked, "How are you getting home?"

"I'll walk. It's not that far."

"Walk? Let me get you a cab."

"No, I can't ask you to do that."

"I want you to get home safe."

"I will be. I can look after myself."

"I don't doubt that you can. But to keep my mind at ease, may I walk you home?"

"What about your Uncle?"

"He'll be fine. He's been talking to colleagues all night. He won't miss me that much."

"Well, follow me."

They linked arms again and walked down the street. It was quiet and peaceful as they passed by stores and open areas decorated for the holidays. Some places you could hear muffled Christmas music playing. As they crossed a bridge a small wind blew, making Etheldrea shiver.

Sam took off his coat and placed it around her, "Here."

"Thank you. . . . I'm sorry, if you ever expected me to show up. At the coffee shop a couple years ago, I mean."

"It's fine. Like I said, I wasn't sure if you were interested in talking again. I took a bit of a gamble. But, you know, I wasn't lying about the song. I made the lyrics, but I don't have them with me right now. I could send them, if you'd like."

"I would love that. My address has changed though, it's not as easy to remember."

"I'm sorry again, about your dad. He was a good man."

"You think so?"

"The papers were wrong. They had to be. Uncle Greg is never wrong about people."

"That's very kind, thank you."

A few more minutes later they arrived. The porch light was on for her, and it looked like John and Mary had gone to bed. The two lingered outside of the door for a bit, neither wanting to say good bye.

"It was nice talking to you again." He said, "Maybe we could do it again?"

"I'd like that."

"I'm staying with my Uncle for a few more days. You can come over whenever you want."

"I might just take you up on that."

He grinned, "Okay. Great. Thanks for keeping me company tonight."

"The same to you. I had more fun than I thought I was going to."

"Me too. I'll, uh, see you later then."

"Thank you for walking me home. Get back safe."

He took her hand and lifted to kiss it, and lowered it back down.

"Have a good night Etheldrea."

"You too, Samuel."

He stepped back and walked away. Etheldrea watched him walk away, smiling to herself, and then waving when he turned back once. She didn't go inside until she saw that he had gotten a cab. It was dark inside, only one light on for her to see around. When she stepped into the living room, the other lights came on and she found Mary and John waiting for her by the sofa.

Mary had a huge smile on her face and asked, "How did it go?"

Etheldrea looked at John, "He told you, didn't he?"

He laughed, "Lestrade might have mentioned it. He walked you home, huh? And gave you his coat?"

Etheldrea looked down and realized she was still wearing it.

"We were crossing the bridge, and the wind picked up, and it was cold and snowing."

"You don't need to explain yourself." Mary said, "Are you going to see him again?"

"I'll have to, I have his coat."

"Come here, come sit down. I want to hear everything!"

Etheldrea groaned and tried to walk to her room, but Mary only moved to follow her. She tried to simplify everything, but Mary kept pressing for details. John listened while she talked, happy to hear about the dancing and talking. The best part was, she would see him again, and from how close he had seen them walking- because he and Mary had been watching from the window for them- he could not wait to see what else was in store.


	14. 1000 Times Part 1

**Kiss me goodnight, like a good friend might**

**I'll do the same, but won't mean it**

**'Cause love is a cage**

**These words on a page**

**Carry the pain, They don't free it**

**In another life I wouldn't need to**

**Console myself as I resign to, release you**

* * *

The next morning, practically shooed out by Mary, Etheldrea went to Lestrade's apartment. She remembered her wallet this time, and she had the coat because that was her sole reason for going over there. Last night had been fun, but she had convinced herself it had just been two people out of their element trying to make the best of their time. Anything she thought she might have felt was just due to the circumstances, and it had to be the same for him.

The ride was short, and Lestrade was quick to let her up when she buzzed. She stood outside the door, hoping she could just hand him the jacket and leave. But, no such luck. Lestrade opened the door and stepped aside.

"Etheldrea, come in!" he said.

She forced a smile and walked in. She refused to look around the room and held the jacket to him.

"I just came to return this."

He nodded towards the hall, "Sam's in the guest room – although it's mostly become his now."

Then he walked away from her and to the kitchen. Etheldrea resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and then straightened her posture and walked to the bedroom door. It was opened a crack, and soft strumming sounded out. He was playing guitar. She gently knocked opening it just a bit more.

"Come in." Sam's voice called out.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside, keeping as close to the frame as she could. When Sam saw it was her he smiled and put the guitar down. He stood from the bed and walked over to her.

"Good morning." He looked down, "I wasn't sure if- I mean, I didn't know-"

"You forgot your jacket." She said, holding it out.

"Oh, thanks." He took it and went to place it in a suit case.

"Of course. Thank you for letting me use it. . . . Going to your mom's soon?"

"Not for another couple days, but it doesn't hurt to have everything ready. I can't wait to see her, and its Christmas. Do you have any plans?"

"Just hanging out with John and Mary. Maybe I'll sent my Uncle a Christmas card, if he hasn't pissed me off."

"Family problems?"

"Not really, not anymore. He's just . . . Uncle Mycroft."

He nodded, "I get it. What about work? You're training for detective right, and work for Uncle Greg?"

"Yes. I have another year before I can become one, and I'm not sure if I'll be part of his team, but I hope so. He's one of the few officers who isn't annoying."

"I think you'll get on his team. He talks about you a lot, says he can't wait."

Etheldrea smiled, "Really? He's always been the optimistic type. Well, I don't want to waste anymore of your time, I better go. I hope you have a Happy Christmas."

He stood up, "You're not wasting my time. If you want to leave, I'll walk you out."

They left the room and walked to the door.

Lestrade grinned form his spot on the couch, "You two going out? Good for you Etheldrea. About time you became more social, and not in the chasing criminals social."

"No, no, I was just leaving."

Sam smiled, "Maybe we could hang out- to be more social of course. I'd be willing if you are."

"I've nothing else to do today, I'm not sure-"

"We'll find something." He turned and went to grab a coat.

As they walked out, she heard Lestrade called in an almost giddy tone, "Have fun you two!"

* * *

The nearby park was their unofficial destination. They walked and talked for a while, observing some children who were failing at playing in the little amount of snow, and the poor parents who brought them here. To their left they past a drooping snowman that had picked up the loose grass and leaves from the ground, a few sticks poking out for hands.

Sam laughed, "I remember making snowmen just like him. I was always too impatient to wait for the better snow. What about you?"

"I've never made a snowman."

They stopped walking and took a seat on a bench.

"What? How?"

"No interest and no friends. I never really played in the snow. Around winter I preferred to read. What were your favorite things to do in the winter?"

"My friends and I would meet at the park and have snow ball fights every weekend. There was also a small pond and whenever it froze over we would try to play hockey, but no one had the proper equipment so we would just skate around on our shows. One time when there was this really great snowfall, we built a fort that was twice out size- so about eight feet. There was always an adventure."

"That sounds great."

"You said you preferred to read, but did you have any other activities?"

"Of course. Grandmother would have me bake with her, and then when she and grandfather moved, Mrs. Hudson took over. Mrs. Hudson loves baking anyway, but she always does more around the holidays. There was also decorating. I didn't really do much until I was about four, and that went terrible."

"How bad could it be?"

"We were decorating the tree, and there were _dozens _of ornaments. My father left me alone for five minutes, and in that time I managed to cover the entire bottom of the tree with _all_ of the ornaments. There wasn't a skirt under the tree either, so when he tried to take them down, loads would fall and break."

Sam was dying of laughter, "How did you manage to fit all of them on the tree?"

"I was a very determined child. Needless to say, I was never left alone with the tree for quite a few years longer than necessary."

"I'd imagine so. What about snow forts? Or looking at displays around town, plays?"

"No. No friends. I never had a best friend until I met Abigail, and my dad wasn't a fan of snow or cold. Also, I'm a terrible actress. Arts of any kind are not my forte."

"You're a great dancer though."

"Well, I've got a great teacher- and a handsome one too."

He cheered, "Yes! I knew it, I could see it in your eyes."

She rolled her eyes, but smiled. The she stood and looked towards the roads.

"There's a café nearby that serves the best hot chocolate. It'd be perfect to warm up in."

He didn't answer. Instead, her reply hit her in the back. There was just a little bit of snow and blades of grass on her shoulder which she brushed away, and then turned to Sam in confusion. He had a grin on his face and another snowball in his hands. He drew his hand back and flung it towards her, but she quickly dodged.

"We haven't experienced enough cold for any cocoa yet. Come on, hit me!"

He was in the process of making another one and she quickly scoped up a handful and tossed it at him. The pile hit the side of his face, surprising him and he quickly chucked the snow at her. She dodged it and went for more snow, grabbing a bit more grass and leaves than she wanted. It hit him square in the chest, and he threw another that hit her leg.

The battle continued for a while, both ignoring looks from others around them, both content in having a little fun. At one point, a child with its parents stopped to watch their game and rooted for both of them before being pulled away. Soon after, just when Sam hit her with a snowball, she tripped and fell to the ground.

"Ethel!" Sam yelled and ran to help her up.

Just as his hand grabbed her shoulder, she turned to face him and smacked a handful of snow on the top of his head. He laughed, and shook it off before pulling her to her feet.

"Would you like to go to that café now?" he asked.

"Very much so."

She looked down at their jeans which were now soaked through. She could feet her socks were soaked as well, and sections of her coat were too. Sam's hair was wet and there was a large damp spot on his right shoulder. Both were shivering as they made their way.

A few streets down, they stepped inside the café which greeted them with a rush of warm air and the smell of coffee. They ordered some drinks and went to sit by a window that overlooked the street. People walked on by quickly, many doing their last minute Christmas shopping.

Sam smiled at her and asked, "Was that your first snowball fight?"

She smiled back, "For all intents and purposes, yes."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you call kids chucking snow at me, and me trying to get away a snowball fight?"

"No. I'm sorry that happened."

She shrugged, "Kids don't think about how their actions affect others. Only themselves. But, we all grow up someday."

For a short while, the conversation dwindled. Etheldrea wasn't sure what to say, but luckily Sam noticed a small box at the edge of the table. There were a stack of cards with different questions on them, mostly made for kids.

"Interested in getting to know me?" he asked.

Etheldrea chuckled, "You can't think of questions yourself?"

"I could, but they certainly wouldn't be as interesting as 'Live under water and swim with the fish, or be able to travel through space and touch the stars?'"

"Underwater. You can't touch a star- you would burn up before you even could. You can burn up from one right here on Earth if you spend enough time outside."

"But if you could touch a star?"

"No. I don't think so. Its space, what does it matter?"

"You don't like space? But it's space! There's an unknowable number of worlds out there. There might even be life out there! For all we know, it's infinite and just keeps going on and on- there is no end to anything up there! If you're underwater you can see all the fish and everything but then you'll be done."

Etheldrea was hiding her laugh behind her hand, although it didn't help. She grabbed a different card from the little box and read it off.

"Would you rather fly or turn invisible?"

"Fly, definitely. If you were invisible, you'd go blind."

Etheldrea smirked, "Exactly. But, if you could fly you'd be studied on by scientists. You'd have to be on the run the entire time. Could you handle that?"

"So it's a lose – lose either way, but at least I could see where I was going. If I was invisible, there's not much I would do regardless if I could see or not."

"You wouldn't want to sneak in anywhere? No movies, or stealing from stores?"

"No. If no one can see me there's a chance they might sit on me or something, and if a place is full where would I sit? And stealing's not cool. I would rather pay."

"You're a good man."

"I'm trying. How about this? Have magical powers to save the world, or be the strongest person in the world?"

"Magic powers without a doubt. At least with magic I could do something. If I was strong how would that stop a robber? Maybe if I was the fastest person in the world, then that could help, but strength can only do so much. Besides, it doesn't specify what kind of magic, so it opens up a whole realm of possibility. I could have elemental magic, general magic spells, advanced magic, Harry Potter, it's all opened up to me."

"I didn't take you as the kind to believe in magic."

"Oh, I don't. But this question asks you to make believe it can be. And I've read a fantasy novels in my time. I'm not above wishing magic could be real." She grabbed another card, "Swim in a pool filled with chocolate milk or go ice skating on a mountain of frozen lemonade?"

"Neither of those sound good. Swimming in chocolate milk? Gross. But ice skating on a _mountain_? Is there a section that's flat frozen lemonade or am I just skating downhill with no chance of stopping? I guess lemonade then."

"I'd go with lemonade also. Less mess I'd imagine. Here's another, find 'true love' or become a millionaire?"

"Millionaire just to help my mom."

"But what if you never met your 'true love'?"

"Do you believe in true love?"

"I believe in love. People love their family, their friends, each other. And I believe that it can be true. How can it not if you love, say your mother, or dad? But romance? I don't believe in 'the one' or 'soulmates'. I don't have much experience with relationships, but from what I've read relationships depend on communication. If there's a bunch of miscommunication then nothing good will happen, and then who knows – Romeo and Juliet could happen again."

"But Romeo and Juliet is one of the greatest love stories-"

"They knew each other for three days, and six people died."

"That's passion."

"That's ridiculous."

"It is, isn't it? They were teenagers after all. What would they know about real love?"

"Precisely. You can't fall in love with someone in three days. You can develop an attraction- that's what starts a relationship after all, but 'true' love doesn't come for a long time."

He was smiling at her, a look of admiration in his eyes. For a moment she was embarrassed at having just ranted about her views on romance, but she quickly realized that he agreed with her. He grabbed another card from the deck and read it off.

"If you had this week to do over again, what would you do differently?"

"I don't think that's on the card."

"What would you change?"

She thought for a moment, "Nothing."

* * *

They had to leave eventually, and they did when a waiter told them it was closing time. Afterwards, Etheldrea received an emergency call from work and she had to leave. But, she and Sam agreed to meet up again the next afternoon.

Lestrade opened the door, and led her inside. Sam was watching TV and got up when he saw that she had arrived. Lestrade waved goodbye to them and left for somewhere, leaving them alone. They made small talk for a while, asking about their days, and then Sam gestured to his room.

"Would you like to hear a song?"

"Sure."

They walked to the room and she took a seat on the bed. He grabbed his guitar and sat by her.

"I hope you don't mind, I'm not sure if I know any classical music."

She laughed, "It's fine. I'm not terribly picky on my live performances."

He laughed with her and played the beginning of one of the latest songs she'd heard on the radio. Etheldrea thought he was good. He hummed quietly along with his playing, and it was pleasant on her ears.

"Have you ever played before?" he asked her, still strumming.

She shook her head, "I'm terrible. My dad tried to have me learn violin once. Then piano. I just can't do anything . . . artsy. I've broken more strings than I can tell, and my piano is just as bad as my singing."

"No way, I'm sure you're a great singer."

"I'm squeaky, and my voice cracks every other note. I've made a dog _whine_ before. But, I've never felt the need to sing, so happily I get to listen to music instead of make it."

Sam chucked and picked up the tune. It was fun and something some could dance to, and then he started to sing.

_Nothing can come between us_

_We'll leave the others in the dust._

_Driving all the way to London_

_In our big gigantic bus._

_Or maybe we'll go farther still _

_To Manchester or bust._

_It doesn't matter much to me_

_As long as I have work to do_

_And you don't mind the wait._

_Our communication is the key_

_To stop the next disaster scene._

_Because,_

_I'll always be by your side_

_But only if I find a homicide._

_Troubles going on in town_

_And we're the only ones_

_Who knows what's going down._

_We've got to work together_

_And save the lives of everyone._

_Maybe afterwards_

_We'll take a nice relaxing cruise_

_But wait just a moment here_

_Oops, there's been a murder too._

_Looks like vacation has to wait_

_There's more than out lives at stake._

_But once the case is solved_

_And the murderer's away_

_We can chill at home_

_Now that we have some time alone._

_Oh. Looks like the neighbors in trouble now._

_What do you say?_

_Because_

_I'll always be by your side_

_But only if I find a homicide._

_Troubles going on in town_

_And we're the only ones_

_Who knows what's going down._

_I'll always be by your side_

_But only if I find a homicide._

_Only if I find a homicide._

Sam ended the song with a slight blush on his cheeks and his hands shook just a bit.

"I know I said I'd send it to you, but I thought I might as well get it over with. If I'm honest, I'm not that good at composition, but I'm pretty good with rhyming."

"You were nervous?" she asked. "You had no reason to be. It was . . . cute."

"You hated it."

She laughed, "No! Not at all. It's not a top ten pop song, but it's unique on its own. It's yours, and that's more important than anything. I like, I truly do."

"Thanks."

They spent the rest of the afternoon playing and listening to songs. Sam even tried to get Etheldrea to play, but quickly realized she really didn't have a musical bone in her body and instead played songs to entertain her. Etheldrea found herself wishing for no end to the day. But, with a bit of courage, she asked to see him off the next day.

* * *

Etheldrea and Lestrade stood by the station entrance with Sam as he got the rest of his things in order. His bags were packed, his ticket ready, and all that was left to do was say goodbye. After seeing his mom, Sam wouldn't be back for another month.

Sam gave his Uncle a hug, and then turned to Etheldrea. They stood silent for a moment, neither really wanting to say goodbye. But, they had exchanged contacts so both knew it wasn't final. Etheldrea held out her hand and he shook it.

He got ready to go, but before he did, he swept Etheldrea into a hug. She froze for a moment before returning the hug. He was the first to let go, but only after Lestrade coughed and nodded towards the station. Sam grabbed his bags and waved goodbye. Then he was off, and Lestrade grabbed a cab. Etheldrea followed after him. They took the same cab, both heading to work.

He said, "You know, I wouldn't mind seeing you around more often."

She said with disbelief, "Lestrade."

"I'm serious. You're welcome, anytime. And I'm sure Sam will let you know when he's staying over, so you'll have a reason to visit more often."

"It won't be that often."

"Really? Because he visits almost every other weekend nowadays. You two could hang out more often. I'm sure you'd like that." He said with a smirk.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing. I'm just happy for you both."

"We're not- he's not- I'm- Lestrade, please."

He chuckled at her, still smirking and thinking about the future. He couldn't wait to see how things developed, and he definitely couldn't wait to tell John.

* * *

**AN: I'm so sorry! It's been like 4 months since I have written ANYTHING for myself and it has really sucked. I'm still in this weird mood but I'm doing whatever I can to push past it and keep writing. School has taken up most of my time, but on the plus side I passed all my classes and for the first time in my semesters at my school, I didn't have any D's in my grades! Come the end of January there will probably be another hiatus when school starts, and I hope you all understand, but until then I'm going to try and write as much as I can.**


	15. 1000 Times Part 2

**Nothing could be worse than the risk of**

**Losing what I don't have now**

**I'm weaker by the minute, though**

**Is it so bad if I wanna cry out**

**That I would die to make you mine**

**Bleed me dry almost every time**

**But I don't mind, no I don't mind it**

**I would come back 1000 times**

* * *

Christmas this year was significantly better this year over the last. It was far less lonely with Mary there, which both John and Etheldrea were grateful for. Etheldrea received a call from her grandparents, and surprisingly afterwards she called and talked to Mycroft for some time.

Mary and Etheldrea went on a baking marathon a day before Christmas and made dozens of cookies, bread, and cakes. Then they made gift baskets for their friends. Mary delivered one to her friend Janine, and some to a couple co-workers. Etheldrea brought some to Mrs. Hudson, Abigail, and Lestrade.

The same day she did brought them to Lestrade, was the same day she received a text from Sam. It was a simple "how was your day" and their daily conversation was began from there. They wished each other a Merry Christmas, and then a Happy New Year. First it was a couple times a week, then more, and then more. Every day, while she was on her break and he had finished with school they would talk. Sometimes he called her and they would talk the entire hour, and sometimes they would just text- involving Lestrade if he had a break the same time as Etheldrea.

Sam had begun his last semester of language and felt he was up to par to study with Etheldrea. That was another thing they would do when he had tests coming up. She knew enough to help and he greatly appreciated it. He had synced into a schedule he was comfortable with, and he talked about visiting his Uncle at the beginning of February, and then probably every other weekend afterwards.

One weekend, while he was visiting his mom, they skyped. They talked for hours, late into the night and getting to know each other, which found Mary and John smirking at her for the entire next morning. Then the next time they talked, it was another late night weekend and they began talking more about their personal lives. Their pasts- what life was like for each other growing up, the good and the bad sides of school, the friends they made or in Etheldrea's case didn't make.

The more they talked, as they found themselves revealing more and more to each other, the worst possible thing happened.

He asked her out on a date.

And she said yes.

* * *

She hadn't even thought about it when she hit send. At first, she didn't realize what he meant when he said date, but the moment she did was when everything fell apart. She stopped replying, ignored his calls and texts, every form of contact he tried. He had even called his Uncle to know if she was alright. Then once Lestrade found out, he tried to talk to Etheldrea but was also ignored, and so he went to John.

But John got the same response. He was patient- he knew how closed off she could become and he knew giving her some space would makes things right. Only, a week passed and there was still no word from her. After talking to Mary, she decided to talk to Etheldrea herself.

Mary knocked on the bedroom door, "You can't hide from this forever, you know."

Etheldrea gave no response.

"It's natural to feel scared, but ignoring everyone who tries to talk about this will only make it worse."

Once again, there was no response.

"If you don't open the door, I'll open it myself."

For a moment, Mary thought she really would have to unlock the door but as she stepped away she heard a click and the door opened just a crack. She pushed it all the way, stepped in, and observed Etheldrea. She was sitting on her bed, fiddling with her hands and refusing to look up. Mary sighed and took a seat next to her, wrapping an arm around her.

"Thank you. Now, what's go you so worked up?"

Etheldrea took out her phone and passed it to Mary. It was already open to the messages and she found dozens from Sam. She started from the beginning and scrolled through, reading the ones that stood out.

**Ethel? You there?**

**Hello?**

**Are you alright?**

**I keep getting your voicemail. Please pick up.**

**Was it something I said?**

**It was something I said, wasn't it?**

**If you don't want to go out, it's fine.**

**Please, just talk to me.**

"If you didn't want to go out with him, why did you say yes?"

Etheldrea stood up and began to pace, "I don't know. I didn't realize, well I sort of did, but I didn't- I just wasn't thinking about it, and then when I did I- I- I panicked!"

"So, you do want to go out with him?"

"Yes- NO! Well, I don't know. I don't know . . . how to do this."

"Do what? Relationships?"

"Yes." Etheldrea groaned, covered her face with her hands and sat back down, "I don't know anything about dating."

Mary chuckled and wrapped her arms around Etheldrea again.

"It's not that hard. You don't need to 'learn' anything, you just figure it out as you go along."

"But I –"

"And what about John and I, or Abigail and Roland? You've seen how we all get along."

"Yes, but this is different. This is _me_. He can't, we're not, I'm not- right."

"Right? What do you mean by that?"

Etheldrea looked away from her, "You know how I am. I'm weird, and impossible, and stubborn, and . . . he's going to realize that soon enough. What's the point in dating- in any sort of relationship if it just ends? And that's what happens in romantic relationships. You're either going to break up or be with them for the rest of your life- and both of those options terrify me."

"Oh sweetheart, of course it's terrifying. Every relationship of any kind can be. Do you know how long I waited to ask John out?"

"You asked him out?"

"Nope. And that's my point. If you don't do anything, you might let something good get away. I got lucky and it turned out for the best. Sometimes you just have to take a chance."

"But John was crazy about you. There was no doubt in you two staying together, not unless you ended things."

"That's not true. There was also you. I was very nervous about meeting you."

"Meeting me? Why?"

"John looks after you like his own child. If you didn't like me that would be the end of it."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because John would choose you over anyone, any day. You do know how much you mean to him, right? How much he loves you? And thank god we hit it off because now I can love you both just as much."

Etheldrea smiled at the declaration while Mary continued.

"Do you see now? I know we've been telling you to take less risks, but we mean less criminal risks not social risks. From what I've read, this boy really likes you even if you two just stay friends. And if you like him as much as I think you do, then there is no doubt in my mind that you two will stay together."

Etheldrea usually hated her own words used against her, but for once it was deserved and helpful. She looked at her phone and thought about the messages left on it- the worry and sadness she was probably putting him through.

She said, "Thank you Mary."

"Are you going to take the chance?"

She nodded, "Yeah. I am."

"Good." She gave Etheldrea another hug and then stood up to leave.

"Mary-" Etheldrea called to her, "For the record, I love you too."

Mary smiled brightly and then left her to do what she had to. It was early afternoon, so the chances that Sam would pick up were slim but she dialed the number anyway and heard it ring.

And ring.

And ring.

And- _"Hello?"_

"Sam, do you have time to talk?"

"_Yeah! Yes, of course. Class just finished and I'm heading back now so- go ahead."_

"I'm sorry I've ignored you. It's not fair, and you didn't do anything wrong. This is all on me. So, if you still want to, I would very much like to . . . go on a date when I see you next."

"_That's great, I can't wait! I just want to know if everything's alright- if you are alright?"_

Etheldrea stopped him, "I'd like to talk about this in person. I promise, I will explain, but I think it would be better in person."

"_Alright. I'll see you next week."_

* * *

Friday afternoon, Lestrade had managed to convince Etheldrea to accompany him to pick up Sam. Sam had told his Uncle the conversation they had, and while Lestrade was happy knowing they would talk, he was still worried about Etheldrea. He knew the pair had resumed talking again, although Etheldrea wasn't saying as much as before, and he worried that Etheldrea would run. When she worried and over-thought things, closing off was just her natural reaction.

When the passenger's unloaded from the train, Sam quickly spotted the two and walked over. There was a look of relief on his face when he saw that Etheldrea was there and she returned with a polite smile. Lestrade took his bags and asked about the ride, and then his day, and then his week, and then he and Sam talked for the entire trip back to his flat because Etheldrea wasn't saying a word. She listened to them, standing off to the side, and he decided he needed to leave them alone.

"I'll be back soon." He said as he left, "Call if you need me."

Sam shifted from where he stood, either trying to think of something to say or waiting for her. Etheldrea wasn't sure of how to start, but she had to say something.

"I'm sorry, again, for the sudden silence. I'm just not sure how to start this."

"From the beginning would be nice."

"I mean . . . a relationship. I haven't exactly had the best role model for relationships growing up, and watching John and Mary's interaction has been informing but it still doesn't prepare me for anything because Mary just became part of the family, just like John did when I first met him, and not to mention that I don't go on dates with them. But beyond that, there has never been anyone I've been interested in. Sure, I've found guys attractive but I never pursued anyone because I know how they would react to me and I never felt the need to, and that's the thing- I've never wanted to be in a relationship-"

"Then why did you say yes?"

"I've never wanted to be in a relationship until I got to know you. Like I said, I don't know how to do this and it terrifies me."

"You don't have to be scared."

"One, or both of us are going to end up hurt."

"You don't know that."

"Not until it happens."

"Of course not until it happens, but isn't it worth the risk?"

Etheldrea didn't reply.

"We can take this slow, we'll learn as we go. It's me and you. So, are you still up for a date tomorrow night? Nothing fancy, just a nice night out."

Etheldrea nodded slowly and reassured mostly herself, "You and me. Okay. What time?"

"Would six work? I'll pick you up."

"No! I can come here, at six, I mean. John and Mary, they would- we wouldn't leave the house."

"Oh, right. Yeah, my mom would get pretty excited too."

They laughed, both agreeing that they'd get there in time, and then sat and talked about their week. Lestrade slipped back in a while later, relieved to see the two talking again. Soon after Etheldrea left to go back home. Mary and John had gone out on a date night, thankfully, so the interrogation could wait. But, Etheldrea now had a mission to accomplish. She went to her phone's contacts and called the first one in the list.

When it picked up, she asked, "Abigail? I need your help. I'm going on a date tomorrow."

* * *

Etheldrea said, "Never mind, I don't need your help. This was the worst idea I have ever had."

The next afternoon, Abigail had come over with a bag of her make up, and even a few tops just in case. Currently she was going through Etheldrea's dresser, pulling out random tops, pants, and dresses.

"No, this is the best. My best friend is finally going on her first date! Do you know how long I have been waiting for this day? Two and half years. And with the man she's always had a crush on, oh this is great!"

"I haven't always had a crush on him. I thought I was making a friend, and I was nine!"

"It literally does not matter- why do you have so many of the same styled shirts? Okay, what about this?"

She held up a pair of black dress pants and purple blouse.

Etheldrea shook her head, "No, he said not fancy. Just a nice evening- and I didn't invite you over to help with clothes- I invited you over for advice. I don't know what I'm supposed to do on a date. There's got to be more to it than talking."

Abigail sighed, "Oh honey, you've a lot to learn. You're getting to know each other, there is going to be tons of talking, and if you really like him it will go by so fast. My first date with Roland he took me out for coffee and we spent hours just talking about our interests."

"What if you run out of things to say?"

"Then you discuss your interests. Not just favorite things, but favorite parts. What was best, what was poorly done? Rolly Polly and I still have huge disagreements on The Great Gatsby. What about this?"

She held up a pair of jeans and the throw-away shirt Etheldrea used for chores.

"Not that shirt. And I'm already wearing jeans."

"Fair enough, but that top has to go." She went back to searching, "I know you like your white button ups but this is a date, not work."

"I don't always wear these tops. There should be a blouse towards the back. It's lilac with short lace sleeves. I think it's a button up, but it's not that formal."

"Found it!" she pulled it out and tossed it to Etheldrea, "And it's perfect. Now you're make up."

"Casual, remember? I'm not big on make up."

"Please? Please, please, please?"

"Eyeshadow. And a little lip-gloss. That's it."

Abigail smirked as she readied her pallet, "I can work with that."

"Causal!"

"Don't worry, I know exactly what I'm doing."

"That's what scares me."

"Hush, and close your eyes."

In the end, Abigail really did know what she was doing much to Etheldrea's relief. It wasn't over the top, yet it wasn't plain, and she felt ready for the evening. Abigail saw her off since John and Mary were working late (which Etheldrea was thankful for) and when she arrived Sam greeted her at the door. Lestrade sat on the couch watching TV, but he grinned when he saw that she was there.

"You look beautiful." Sam told her.

"Thank you. You're looking handsome as well."

"You both have a great time, alright? Treat each other nice." Lestrade told them as they left.

Lestrade had let Sam borrow his car. The drive short but quiet, and the restaurant wasn't too busy. Lights weren't bright, and the music wasn't too loud. The hostess led them to a small booth and gave them the menus before she left. A waitress took their orders soon after and then they were alone.

Sam smiled, "So, what have you been doing all week?"

"Just work. There was one moment where I had to break up a fight between some teenagers. Flirting with the other's girlfriend or something stupid like that, I don't remember. They both walked away joking with each other though, so it couldn't have been that bad."

"Do you break up teenager fights often?"

"Not teenagers. Mostly intoxicated people. The paper work is killer though. I have to fill out every detail, it's maddening. What about you?"

"Hours of language classes, and by Friday's everything is a jumble."

"I know how you feel. I learned Italian and Arabic at the same time and it was terribly confusing."

"Why were you learning them at the same time?"

She shrugged, "My dad had a case that day and I was bored."

"Wait, are you telling me you learned to speak Italian and Arabic because you were bored? Holy shit, that's amazing!"

"Thank you. I wanted to learn every language once upon a time, but then things got in the way. When did you decide you wanted to be a translator?"

"A few years ago, when I stayed with my Uncle for a while, the Spanish teacher supervised my lunch period and we would talk. Eventually, she became my favorite teacher, and then my favorite class, and after I left I wanted to do more. But I wanted to do more than just translate, I wanted to help people with more than just talking."

"So you joined the army."

"I thought it would be easier on my mom. She would know that I'm safe and doing something good. I've put her through a lot in the past few years."

"I've done the same with John. There's lots I did to worry him, and especially after what happened with my dad."

"At least we're getting better. Hey, and maybe they'd get along. Swapping stories about their delinquent children."

Etheldrea laughed, "God, John has enough stories for a life time, and he can complain about them for twice that. But, he means well. He's just protective."

"Same with my mom. But I know she supports me just as much as she wants to protect me."

"I guess we got pretty lucky in the parent department."

Sam nodded, "Yeah, we did."

They chatted for a while longer, delving more into their interests. Etheldrea learned that Sam liked reading just as much as she did, but that he preferred modern literature while she preferred older stories. She also learned that he collected rocks when he was a kid, and that he still had boxes full of them back home. She told him about her exploration days and spending time making terribly drawn booklets on her observations. Surprisingly, Etheldrea felt very relaxed.

Soon, their food arrived and while the conversation slowed it still flowed. Topics eventually turned from interests to talking about the future. This was something Etheldrea had also worried about- how the distance would affect both of them.

Etheldrea said, "You end work at the same time I'm going in."

Sam replied, "But you have mostly the weekend off, and I leave the mornings before you have to go to work."

"We'd only have a weekend a month to see each other."

Sam said with a smile, "I'll just have to visit more often. I think my mom will understand. And Uncle Greg is always complaining that he doesn't see me enough."

"You shouldn't give up your time with her just for me."

"I can balance. What if I came up every other weekend? It's only fair."

"Why me?"

"Sorry?" he was confused.

"You could be with anyone else. Someone normal, with a normal personality, and normal life. Why me? Why are you doing this for me?"

"Because I like you and I enjoy talking to you. You're clever and intelligent. Talking with you has been easy, and I appreciate that you're not afraid to speak your mind. You told me earlier that you weren't interested in a relationship, why me?"

"You asked me out."

"No, really."

"No, really, that's it. You asked me out, which is more than I can say for any guy I've ever met. Anytime we've met, talked, you never treated me differently. You haven't treated me like I'm different, or like I have a super power. Which is what surprises me. Even the few friends I have didn't treat me like you have. And, I agree, talking to you has been very easy. You . . . encourage me, make me want to be better than I am."

"Would it be wrong to say you do the same for me?"

Etheldrea replied, "Not at all. We want to bring out the best in each other. That's what couples do, right?"

He smiled, "Yeah, they do."

* * *

Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade never in his days thought he would see this. He stood back at the train station, watching the goodbyes in front of him with a smile. The couple stood closer to each other than he had seen them before, and he wished that he could take pictures or even a video without being caught by the young woman. He would just have to settle for the memories. He'll never forget the smile on his nephews face when he had come back a couple days ago, how excited he was to tell him about the date he had the next night, and then helping him get ready-

"She won't care about your appearance, you said it was causal so jeans and a nice shirt will do- no don't overdo the cologne, she's doesn't care about it that much- you look fine, she'll love it- she doesn't know what she's doing either, but you can help her figure it out- remember, she's got walls and they're tough to climb, just work your way up and go slow, she'll appreciate that- she loves to read, not much into pop culture, why am I telling you this? You need to figure it out on your own- it's about time you two got together, she's absolutely smitten, and so are you- don't look at me like that, you know it's true- have a good night"

And then the glow Sam had when he came back from the date- a glow that, according to John, Etheldrea also had. He completely utterly tried to pry- to get every detail he could like some obsessing teenager- and he had not been disappointed. For Sam, it had gone even better than great. They just talked, got to know each other, and learned about each other. Same had learned how to make her laugh, how to her job was going and how she managed to stay so strong. He learned how to get past her walls, even for just a moment and even if she might have let him, just enough to understand her and assure her that they could work everything out.

Sam would be visiting more often to see her (and Lestrade, he had been reassured multiple time but Greg didn't care about that as much) and he couldn't have been happier. Happy to see his nephew's own happiness, and even more happy to see someone he cared about in the same state. Because this was Etheldrea and this was entirely new territory for her, and as much as he trust John to look after her, he knew her as much as Greg did, but John hadn't known Etheldrea as a child, and Sherlock wasn't here to notice the change in his daughter from a child to a young woman, a young woman falling in love.

Now, in front of him, Sam was reluctant to go, drawing out the goodbye. Etheldrea blushed at something he said and looked down, shaking her head a bit. Whatever she replied with gave Sam a laugh, and then his train called for the last remaining passengers. Sam broke away from her to give Greg a hug.

"Have a good trip." Greg said.

"Thanks."

Sam turned back to Etheldrea and grabbed her hand, quickly giving it a kiss before going to his train. It left soon after, and the two officers walked back to his car. As he started it up, he looked over to Etheldrea.

"Do I need to give you the 'don't break his heart or I'll kill you' talk?"

She looked at him with alarm, "What?"

"Come on, it's standard. 'If you hurt him, I'll hurt you'. John will have that talk with him about you soon enough."

"Then I'll make sure they never meet."

He laughed, "You know that won't stop him. So, I suppose I'll see you more often then. Not just at work, I mean."

"Yes. I hope you won't mind."

"Of course not. I'm just happy you two worked things out."

Etheldrea mumbled quietly, "Me too."

He smirked when he heard her. Though they had just begun, he could see them lasting for a while. Even when things got tough, they'd both come back every time.

* * *

AN: Sorry that chapters are taking so long, but school gets in the way. I forgot that being an English Literature major means a ton of essays every week. Not entirely sure if any of my knowledge about the British military and what they can do in their off time is going to be correct. I have exhausted as many resources as I could find and I think all that I write will be as accurate as I can get. That being said, this is a TV show and I am a writer so there will be little leeway. Also, we only have a few chapters left and then we begin Season 3!


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